Falling into Entropy
by WritingRum
Summary: He wants her to remember him. It's all about custody. Can they work it out together? Desperate Souls; Rating up. Mr Gold x Emma Swan
1. Boyish Talk

**Desperate Souls**

_Subtitled: Falling into Entropy_

**Pairing:** Mr Gold/Rumple x Emma Swan

**Warnings:** This story contains adult materials, non-cannon items (a lot), Ridiculous conversations, dark aspects, drugs, drink, and (non-con) smut. Illogical turns and events and possibly double mentioned things for all is the result of a one-on-one role play and therefore texts are written from both perspectives of the main characters. If this bothers or confuses you feel free to click away now or during reading. To us it gives an extra dimension to the tale so we decided not to toy with that by deleting parts and keep it all as a whole.

**Technicalities**: In this story Mr Gold is Henry's father. We started writing this rp next to the series when it hadn't aired for long, which means not all we write is in correlation with the series' events. All that happens evolves purely from imagination and is inspired by our moods.

**AU:** This story is the result of a rp between KendraLuehr and Rumpelgold and thus written by two different persons purely for their own entertainment and fun. This rp is now published to entertain those of you who like to read a story about Mr Gold and Emma Swan, or those who are so bored they'd read anything. Be as kind as not to flame. Remember, reviews are the cookies for the authors (and we both need to grow so don't hesitate to feed us).

**Dedication:** This story is posted for all the lovely Gemma and Golden Swan supporters, even if they are said to live in their bubble of bliss ignorance. This story is also dedicated to the writers of Once Upon A Time, who will probably never read this, whose series have been the inspiration for our pens (or rather keyboards) and our imagination, making us at times feel clever, giving us the urge to outwit each other and make each other have the hardest time possible to reply. To all, thank you, and to all our readers: enjoy the tale.

_Chapter 1:Rabbit Heart_

**Boyish Talk**

Emma wasn't exactly known for being a cheerful person, but it was evident she was more surly than usual as she walked through the streets of Storybrooke. After a brief talk with Henry (followed by a half-expected visit from Regina), all she wanted to do was go home and scream into a pillow. But alas, something was keeping her from doing anything "fun." And that "something" just so happened to be a creepy, unsettling pawnbroker.

After ensuring that Ashley Boyd had gotten to keep her child, all Emma could think about was the so-called "favor" that Gold had made her promise to keep. What would that favor be, and would she actually be willing to do it? Granted, Gold didn't seem like some pervert who'd make her model nude in a dark back room, but stranger, more unexpected things had happened in that sleepy little town.

Checking her watch, she sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. Ok - first thing's first: she'd go to the pawn shop and make sure Gold had kept his end of the bargain. If he'd already broken their agreement, after all, there was no sense in her worrying about a favor that'd never see the light of day.

With this thought on her mind as her main incentive, Emma crossed the street and checked her surroundings. It was early, so nobody was in sight; not that Storybrooke had a lot of traffic at normal hours, of course.

Pushing open the door, Emma ignored the tinkle of the bell and called out, "Hello? Gold, are you here?"

She didn't see anyone initially, but when she heard some rustling in the back room, she decided he might be hiding and went to investigate. Upon entry, she leaned against the doorframe and folded her arms, staring Gold down with a coldness that only a Sheriff could retain. She was accustomed to being suspicious, so even though Gold still hadn't turned around, she was prepared to greet him with her game face.

"Gold," she irritably tried yet again, "could you please stop what you're doing and talk to me? It's important."

The time Emma had decided to come around and pay him a visit, Mr Gold had just finished dusting the items in his shop and was in the back room pouring himself a hard earned cup of coffee. He blew the steam off the cup when Emma burst in and loudly announced for him to drop everything he was doing so they could talk. He turned to her and let go of the cup. The hot coffee splashed all over his shoes and trousers and he winced. "Miss Swan, look what you've done. You startled me."

He was leaning heavily on his cane and shook his head to flip the strands of brown hair from out of his face. The expression on his face as his brown eyes locked with Emma's was that of a displeased man. He indicated that it was hard for him to lean down and pick up the pieces that had once formed a cup, but when he saw the serious look on her face he decided to sweep it all up later on.

Unfortunately for Gold, Emma didn't seem the slightest bit moved by his pain. In fact, a small smile briefly flitted across her lips, but she dropped it since she wanted to maintain her aura of sternness. That sly smile he usually gave people when he thought to be kind reappeared on his face and he steadied himself. His trousers were wet and stained and his shoes ruined, and there was no way he could clean up this mess gracefully.

But there was also no way he would ask Emma to help him. She might interpret it as her promised favor, after all, and he wasn't going to have her pay just yet.

"How can I help you, Miss Swan?" It was hard for him to address her properly. The last few times he had spoken to her he had used 'Emma' rather than 'Miss Swan'. That was until one of the town's children had asked him if Emma was a kid and he recalled how inappropriate it had been to address her in such a way. Though 'Emma' rolled off the tongue so much easier.

He was snapped out of his thoughts and with that ever same fake-smile he studied her.

"Perhaps you should be more aware of your surroundings," she coolly suggested, now uncrossing her arms as she watched him attempt to clean his garments. "I'd offer to help, but I see you don't have a broom handy."

Emma may have been accustomed to being a hard-ass, but she wasn't completely impolite.

Judging by the expression on Gold's face, he was displeased and obviously wanted her to state her business. Knowing there was no sense in prolonging the inevitable, she brushed back a wave of her hair and announced, "I'm here to see if you've kept your end of the bargain. I haven't been able to visit with Ashley Boyd, so I want your word that you'll never speak to her again. If I so much as catch you looking at her and her child the wrong way, our deal is off. I know that's not how you "do things," but guess what? That's how I do things, and there's no cop in the world who'll arrest a Sheriff for breaking a deal."

At her rant Mr Gold raised a brow but other than that he remained completely peaceful, standing where he was, leaning on his cane with his weight and eyeing her." A hard-headed girl who knows what she wants," was all he murmured. "I value that in you, Emma."

He was back to first-name base again. His eye twinkled and his teeth showed in a cunning smile. "It's very charming."

He loved to tease her with the name that belonged to her father. Especially now that she didn't know. He hoped that each time he used it something in her mind would be triggered. Even if it only was the gut-feeling that Henry could be right.

For Mr Gold had, via the teacher, given the boy and the book of fairy tales of which he knew he would read it and would go find his true mother. Exactly like he had done. And Gold was proud of him for that.

"They are capacities I recognize in _Henry_, did you know?" He deliberately avoided answering her about Ashley Boyd. He would not take her child now, but to never see her again would be a hard if of impossible task in the town they lived in.

Emma couldn't help but grimace at his words. The last thing she wanted was a man like Gold to admire her sense of character, but she supposed she'd experienced far worse from men. Henry's father, for instance, didn't exactly hold a high place on her "Man of the Year" tier, but then again, she honestly couldn't remember much of that night to be a fair judge. All she knew was that he was an absentee, and that was good enough proof for her.

Since Gold was annoying her with his rambling, she found that she was only half-listening to his "Emma this, Emma that," gibberish. That is, until he brought Henry into the mix. Eyes narrowing, she coolly demanded, "What are you talking about? You may have known Henry longer than I have, but I'm sure it's pretty safe to say that you do not know anything special about him. In case you haven't noticed, Henry avoids you like the plague."

Perhaps it was impolite to say such things, but she didn't care. There were different rules in this town, and she wasn't about to forget the way Henry had looked at Gold when he was at her apartment.

A pang of pain shot through him. It was visible by way his face contorted at her harsh words. Mr Gold had made sure to bring his son as close to him as he possibly could but Henry just wasn't allowed to know that he was the father. At this point it would jeopardize all plans to save them from the curse and to free them. It just could not be risked.

Henry had been the assurance that Emma would come. Henry had been the tool to get the savior to town. Henry had been - Mr Gold's heart clenched and his lips pressed into a tight line. _He knew he should not think about it._

"What is it you truly want, Miss Swan?" The man sharply said. If there had been kindness on his face it had all gone. Only bitter remorse remained.

The warring emotions on Gold's face honestly surprised Emma, but she said nothing as she watched him vacillate from pleasant to perturbed in a matter of moments. He was obviously upset with what she'd said, but she couldn't understand why. Did Gold really value the opinion of a ten-year-old that much, or was there something she was missing in the equation?

Jumping slightly at his sharp tone, Emma opened her mouth to respond, but was surprised when no logical thought came to mind. Why was she there? She'd already stated her business about Ashley, but that was truly the only reason she could come up with for stopping by.

With a frown, Emma began to pace around the room, her eyes taking in the bizarre trinkets without truly seeing them. "I don't know," she confessed, "but then, when does anything ever make sense in this town? You're all out to get me in some way, and I'd like the petty bullshit to stop."

With patience that was more than a virtue, for no saint could have stood there to hear Emma's snide remarks, Mr Gold waited behind his counter. When he thought she was done he merely showed her the ghost of a smile as his left hand touched the counter's surface.

"I'm glad you've decided to stay with us. I never doubted you'd fight back to the mayor's commands. You're a hard-headed woman, Emma, but a very strong one. I think you're just what the town needed."

Emma quirked a brow at Gold's words. "You're glad I decided to stay in Storybrooke? And is that the latest script Madame Mayor's given you to memorize? With all due respect, I still consider you one of her lackeys, so forgive me if I don't entirely view you as a separate entity."

Turning to regard Gold with stern eyes, Emma added, "I'm assuming Regina has you on her payroll? Because honestly, the dirty politics are starting to get old. I'm here to stay, so you can go ahead and tell her that."

Her aura had been smug and superior, truly believing that she had the upper hand and that any moment Gold would confess that yes, he was a part of Regina's little plan to make her break. But the man didn't reply, like so many times, and only kept that mysterious smile that made her want to roll her eyes.

Pausing, she took a deep breath and demanded, "What were you going to say about Henry earlier on? You can't bring up my son for no apparent reason, and then suddenly change the subject like that. I want answers."

He wondered if she had even been listening to him when she brought Henry up again. His faint smile had gone and his brows knitted as a dark shadow drifted over his face. What was it with this impertinent girl to bring up the boy time after time again. Gold was very much convinced she wasn't aware of the truth, of him being the father, but sometimes her words and indiscreet gaze would make him doubt. Like now. Was she onto him?

He recovered his poise and with the help of his cane stepped back from the counter. With each dragging limp he took the floorboards creaked. In this fashion he brought himself closer to the curious and somewhat hostile woman in front of him. So close he stood now, that she could smell his scent which was mixed and mangled with the substance of sheep he had used only moments before to mend his antiques. His brown eyes bore into her, his nose was only inches from hers, and he spoke through gritted teeth.

"I value the boy."

It was all he said. He waited for her reaction, for her final blow or reluctant retreat.

Emma had instinctively stiffened when he had approached her. Something about this man always made her high on the defensive, and she didn't like it. He made her seem like a horrible person, yet she assured herself that she was only behaving in the manner he deserved to be treated.

Discomforted by his sudden closeness, Emma visibly recoiled and tried not to make a face at Gold's peculiar scent. What kind of cologne did he use, _'eau de Death?_

Narrowing her eyes when he moved even closer, Emma tried to appear calm, but she desperately wanted to deck Gold across the face for invading her personal bubble. When he revealed that he "valued" Henry, her brows rose high on her head.

"Value him? For what?" she stiffly demanded. "I had a feeling Regina was just using him for politics, but I never figured her lackeys were upholding him for a similar reason..."

The muscles in his face seemed to pull together like a drawstring purse, tightening. One of his eyebrows raised, the other remained as it was, and in this manner he gazed down at her. His eyes, filled with anger and hurt, now softened as he knew she did not know and therefore he could not blame her for not understanding him or his position.

"You love the boy, don't you, Miss Swan?" The surname again, not the first name basis. It showed how he tried to distance himself although physically he stood close enough to her to touch her with his nose if he only wanted to.

"Admit, without Henry would you have come to this town? Would you ever have thought of driving here?"

Emma was caught off-guard by the question, but she retained her composure as she nodded. "Of course I do... Although most may not believe it, I abandoned Henry out of love. I wanted him to have a life that I couldn't give him, so you can tell that to your overbearing partner in crime." She naturally didn't wish for Gold to do any such thing, because discussing Henry with Regina was like talking to a pompous brick wall.

Discovering that there was a reasonable amount of space between herself and the wall, Emma immediately took a step back in order to distance herself from Gold's penetrating stare. If there was one thing he was good at, it was intimidation.

Mr Gold's dark voice sounded, "What would you have done without him? Have you been happy living by yourself these past 28 years with no responsibilities, no relatives, no love?"

Emma's mouth had gone dry as the conversation began to teeter on the verge of being too close to home. "And what would you know about love?" she spat, a visible sneer across her face. "You're considered the most loathsome, feared man in town, so you can't actually expect me to sit back and let you ridicule me for something you know absolutely nothing about."

'Get it together, Emma,' her mind inwardly screamed. 'You're letting him get to you...just take a deep breath and stop while you're ahead.'

And yet, was she actually ahead? Gold had an uncanny manner of allowing one to believe they were on top, when in actuality he was the victor.

Now predominately composed, Emma took a cleansing breath and apologized, "I'm sorry...perhaps my response was a little too hasty. I know all too well what it's like to be alone, so there's no need for me to pick at the scab while it's still healing. I've had love, and I've had plenty of responsibilities, but you're right...if it weren't for Henry, I would've left this hellhole ages ago. So what of it? Do you want me to write out some big confession and sign it for the Mayor?"

"No," Mr Gold calmly replied as he watched her banter and rant. He loved the sound of her voice though, even if it was because she was snarling at him. Her insults were less flattering though for they actually hurt his heart. Not that he couldn't cope with remarks like these. Especially Regina was a master in crushing his soul, but yet he remained tall and looked impervious. His face didn't betray his emotions anymore like it had moments before.

"You will not do such a thing to make a fool of yourself or me. You know who you want to impress and what he'd think."

Damn, he mentioned Henry again, albeit it being implicit. His left hand fluttered to his chest and he smoothed his jacket. His eyes turned to the floor and he limped back behind the counter again.

Finding only a minute sense of relief when Gold returned to his counter, Emma folded her arms and briefly closed her eyes. The man was grating on her last nerve, and she truly feared she might hurt him if he kept pressing her. And pressing her he did.

"If you had so much love and responsibilities then what were you doing in prison, Emma? Why didn't someone get you out? You were a mere child yourself after all. I wonder, did you decide to give Henry away because you thought you wouldn't be capable of raising a child behind bars? Tell me, Emma, is your staying here more than a means to impress your son? " He flinched slightly. He had almost said 'our'. Not that he ever had but he had thought it before.

Her head jerking up, Emma narrowed her eyes. "And what do you know of my relationship with Henry? It may be true that I don't want to disappoint him, but I'm not afraid of you. Everyone else may be worried about what you do or say, but just know that your presence won't keep me from being a good Sheriff. This town needs a sense of order."

"Is it to prove that even a teenage mother in jail can be a hero?" Mr Gold purred.

Hands now on her hips, she felt her temper flare when he further poured salt in the wounds. "How dare you bring up my past?" she seethed. "Who told you about that? My imprisonment is something you'd really have to dig around to find out about... Why are you following my every move?" Resisting the urge to rush over to the counter and shake the man, she instead dug her nails into her palms and tried to breathe evenly.

"You know _nothing_ about my life - not the true facts, anyway, so I'll ask you nicely only once to butt out," Emma snapped. "And as for my intentions for Henry? They're no concern of yours. He is my son, and even though you obviously have I family, I ask for you to respect my wishes."

Mr Gold's face was unchanged but the sadness had returned to his eyes. "Please, Emma, I've given you my fullest support and all you find to do is insult me with every word you can find to tear at my wounds. Do you honestly think I have no soul?"

Emma's eyes remained stern, but her stance visibly softened. What was he talking about? How was she "wounding" him? Surely he'd heard worse from Storybrooke's civilians! She wasn't the only one who abhorred him - she knew she wasn't - so she didn't understand why he was trying to play the victim. And yet...

Emma sighed. She knew what it was like to be the outcast, so perhaps he was right. There was no need to be unnecessarily cruel, especially since they were both just looking out for their own self-interests. She could respect that, because she, too relied on nobody but herself.

"Your fullest support?" She reiterated, finally showing a bit of amusement in her voice. "I'm not sure how you define "supportive," but I'm pretty sure we both have a different viewpoint on that... But you're right, I'm sorry. I guess I'm just used to having to bare my fangs to everyone in this town. I can never tell who's out to get me and who's not."

He limped to a corner behind his counter and picked up a folder. He flipped it open and looked at the pages instead of looking at her. "There's very little you know about me. Less than you presume." It wasn't as if he was going to give anything away about himself. He never did and he never would.

"Sometimes it seems you truly belong to Storybrooke."


	2. Lanolin Oil

**Desperate Souls**

_Chapter 1:Rabbit Heart_

**Lanolin Oil**

Watching as he flipped through a folder of some sort, Emma listened to his words and visibly stiffened. "What do you mean, it seems I belong here? Haven't you ever heard the phrase "Trust no one"? I'm not purposely trying to be cruel to you, it's just ... well ... I can't trust you as far as I can throw you."

Mr Gold did what he'd do best and ignored her insults. "If that'd be all can you leave me to my _odoriferous_ lanolin." He took out the little can and headed for the back room.

Emma began to pick at a lacquered nail and had to stifle a laugh. "Odoriferous? Always good to know Storybrooke still believes in a thesaurus. Although I can't imagine what in God's name lanolin is."

As Gold retreated to the back room, she called after him, "And is this how you treat all your customers? You turn your back so you can bask in your "odoriferous lanolin"?"

"Trust me, Miss Swan, it smells."

As he went into the back room he got his ever so famous green and very fashionable apron and put it on gracefully. Only then he turned back to her, expecting her to follow him for he knew she was curious and wouldn't easily give in or be beaten in a game.

And their battle of words could be called just that: _a game_. He got out a little can of lanolin that seemed to be made of dead animals rather than living as it was reeking just so, and opened it. "Smell, Emma?" He grinned cheekily, knowing she would smell rather than see what he meant.

Emma quirked a brow. "Do I smell? No, I can safely assure you I'm a Suave kind of girl... I never leave home without it." When she caught a whiff of what he was referring to, however, she immediately made a face. "Oh, God...that's disgusting. I seriously don't see how you can stand it."

If anything, it reminded her of dissecting cats in her 10th grade anatomy class. The room was smelled with the sterile, bizarre scent of formaldehyde, and the odor of the deceased was far worse.

"This, I use it to preserve my things and-" here he paused, closed the lid and turned to put it neatly on the working table he owned in the tiny room. "I prefer doing it here. It means I don't have to unnecessarily drag antiques to my home and neither do I have to endure the smell at night."

He caught her eyes and wondered how exactly she had interpreted his last 'I prefer doing it here' sentence.

Watching him repair a knick-knack, she shook her head and was tempted to pinch her nose shut. The smell wasn't the worst she'd ever endured, but she certainly wasn't enjoying conversing in such conditions. Gold probably knew that, the smug little perp.

"You repair a lot of things? Why, do you get so excited you break the merchandise?" She gibed, not understanding why he was making such a big fuss. Last time she checked, he wasn't exactly owning a booming business.

He leaned against the bench. "Look, I didn't mean to insult you before. What I tried to say was; sometimes you remind me of all the people. All the people here who walk about and never wonder, never question their existence. How did we come to life? How were we born? Who was our father?"

He was hinting at the loss of memory all the citizens suffered from, and not as much implied Emma's lack of knowledge about her own parents as much as he was indicating that she had forgotten Henry's origins.

Who had taken advantage of her when she was a rebellious teen? Who was the mysterious man Henry didn't know of and who didn't know he had a son. Why was Emma trying so hard to keep this information from them?

Tempted to pick up a particularly odd item, Emma instead chewed on her lip and demanded, "Yeah? Well why should we question our existence? I know where I came from, so let's leave it at that... Most of us have pasts we'd rather forget about. I'm sure you do, too - most people who're "feared" didn't exactly lead cozy lives prior."

Mr Gold's gaze became intense now. Trying to ignore his intense gaze, she demanded, "Why do you care what the people of Storybrooke think so much? If anything, I wouldn't have thought you'd care at all."

At this the only reply Mr Gold could give was that wickedly crooked smile of him which only lifted the left corner of his lips. His eyes twinkled but he gave her no direct answer and blew against the item he was mending.

"What I wanted to say is," He started, "I feel flattered you decided to stay for a little longer, Emma. And as your benefactor and humble servant, " he bowed mockingly and left the chair he'd been seated on, "and as the gentleman I am I should offer you some refreshment."

If Gold had been trying to ruffle Emma's composure, he'd succeeded. She hadn't meant to stay so long, but she still had a couple hours until Henry got home from school. It's not like she had any friends in town, nor any immediate obligations that needed attending. For being a Sheriff, the job was a bit uneventful thus far... It seemed that nobody ever "misbehaved" except for Regina and Gold, himself.

Deciding to meet his barb with rancor, she coolly returned, "Don't get used to it - I make it a habit of familiarizing myself with my enemies."

She wasn't entirely sure if Gold was her enemy yet, but she didn't appreciate how he kept weaseling his way in and out of her business. For instance, why was he so concerned with her Sheriff position? It's not like she could offer him anything with her newfound power... But then, she couldn't think like a dirty crook. It wasn't in her nature to beat a nasty individual at their own game.

"Would you like some coffee or tea? I'm having coffee myself." He limped over to the coffee machine and with his gloves removed made a cup.

Only half-listening to his offer, Emma dismissively waved a hand and shook her head. "No thanks... Especially since there might be some odoriferous lanolin in that concoction. You must not be used to entertaining too many "guests," because I can guarantee this isn't the right ambiance... A simple Glade plug-in would've sufficed."

"You're right. I don't often have to entertain my guests as I don't often have visitors who stay over. Not during this time of the day though. The Mayor used to come but she doesn't fancy the thought of being here what with the smell and me supporting you and all." He smiled cunningly. His coffee was ready.

Rubbing the back of her neck, Emma asked, "What, no lanolin sleepovers with the Mayor? She struck me as the "dead animal-loving" type..." When she fully realized what he'd said, she demanded, "What do you mean, "not during this time of the day"? You actually entertain people at ungodly hours? Or did you and Regina just start some weird, twisted cult for the oppressors of Storybrooke?" Rolling her eyes at his comment, she grumbled, "Yeah, well...I can't really say I'm overly thrilled that you're my biggest supporter. That's almost like getting endorsed by Hitler, no offense."

Emma realized she was finally becoming a little relaxed, because her bitter humor always poked through when she let her guard down. Being a hard-ass 24 7 was just too tiring...

Mr Gold smirked, for he recognized her weakened position. She was slowly becoming vulnerable again. It wasn't exactly what he needed of her but he expected for her brain to process words better when she was less focused on insulting and denigrating the people she was talking to.

"I'll make you some tea then." He said with a bright smile that told her he would not accept a no. And not only for the mere fact he looked as if he would completely ignore any protests on her account. Thus he prepared her a cup of tea.

"Which taste? Or would you want me to pick?" He held out a small wooden box containing different flavors.

Emma quirked a brow. "And if I told you I'm hopelessly allergic to tea, and that my tongue will swell up and block my air passage, you'd still refuse to accept a 'no'? Nice guy... Although unfortunately for me, I can't say I'm allergic." Looking down at the offered box in distaste, she non-committedly urged, "Um...just surprise me. As long as it's not laced with arsenic, I won't complain. I'm not exactly known as a tea connoisseur around here."

"Your tea will be done in a moment, dear. Do sit down." He gestured for her to sit down and Emma took a glance at the antique chair behind her and paused. "If I break this chair, I'm not paying since you offered... It looks older than dust." Cautiously easing herself down, Emma tested the chair for support, then gradually relaxed herself so that she was seated. So far so good...

"Of course you won't be paying it," Mr Gold said with sarcasm dripping from each word, "I asked you to sit down there." He waited for her to sit and as he did so he started to polish a silvery cup.

Emma sneered at Gold's tone. Was he fed up with her barbs, or was he finally going to dish out some of his own? Watching him polish some sort of silver cup, she muttered, "I hope that's not the first time you've cleaned that thing... It looks a couple centuries old. I know it's a pawn shop, but don't you have anything remotely contemporary? I'd feel so lonely sitting in a room filled with nothing but yesterday's past..."

The water behind him started to boil and he spun round to hurry and make her cup of tea.

"I take it Regina wouldn't mind," Emma started, but didn't finish her sentence. She somwhoe thought yesterday was exactly the way to describe the town's proud mayor.

Mr Gold stood with his back turned towards her as he decided not to reply to her complains. First things first; She had the wrong impression of him. "In contrary to your little fantasies I am not Regina's type to hang out with."

Hearing Gold's assurances, Emma couldn't help but smile. "Fair enough, but I can't really say that anyone is Regina's type...except maybe Kathryn, I guess. You two probably have to get along because it's expected."

He snickered as he filled her cup. His sleeve hung slightly over it which could be rousing suspicion. "And I have been to parties, Emma. Though I do not tend to enjoy them as much as you young people do."

Tapping her foot against the hardwood floor, she watched him pour the drink and quirked a brow. "We "young people"? I'm at the age where I've had enough of silly get-togethers, quite frankly. If I recall correctly, it was one of said "silly get-togethers" that caused me to have a son. I thank God for him every day, of course, but he'll never truly be mine. If only I'd been older..."

"Older." Mr Gold murmured, "I suppose it is all related to age. Or perhaps in my case the hobble and trouble it gives me moving around." Another blow. He was attacking her mockery by referring to his own state of disability. He was making her the cruel villain and him the gent.

Shrugging it off, she ignored Gold's comment about his limp since she found it awkward. She hated talking about sensitive subjects, even if the man before her deserved to be taken down a few pegs.

Possibly four.

He handed her the cup of tea and smiled. "Here you are, dear."

When Gold handed her the tea, Emma took it with reluctant hands. Staring down into its murky depths, she gave it a sniff, then knitted her brows at the odd smell. "I'm beginning to think you have nothing normal in this shop," she confessed, now taking a tentative sip. "Ick...I mean...yum, thanks. Just what I need."

Mr Gold thought about her comment about the get-togethers and the way it had resulted in their son. He was very well aware of these events, or particularly this one, as he had been present at the time. His body was prickly from head to toe as his soul ached to reveal the truth, but the darkness that shrouded him and burdened him did not allow him to be so open. Besides, it was much too dangerous. Yet, it befell him hard to keep completely silent, and as she had commented once again on the 'old' state of everything in his shop he sat down and wrinkled his nose, frowning at her. He could not help but retort.

"Perhaps if you'd owned a pawnshop you would have felt _old enough_ to care for the boy." Darnit, again on the subject. He smiled mysteriously at her, as if he knew so much more, and put forth a shoulder charmingly.

Time to rescue to escalating situation, he thought, and quickly continued in an attempt to flatter her.

"But with your personality it is hard to imagine anything you couldn't do."

Mr Gold knew all too well it had been his very own fault Emma had been in jail at the time she had to give birth. It was one of the parts of his plan that would guarantee for the good-hearted girl to give up her baby. He knew he'd have his son nearby and please the queen, whilst at the same time he had the guarantee that their savior would come to town. Snow didn't get the fairy tale book by coincidence either. She had bought it from Gold's shop when he had suggested it to her.

Mr Gold had planned _everything_ a long time ago when Emma had just been a baby Swan.

Emma's head jerked up in surprise. "Perhaps if I'd owned a pawnshop ? Excuse me, but how in God's name would that have made me feel more responsible and able to care for him? I've loved Henry ever since I held him in my arms, but I knew I could never have him...it just wasn't meant to be."

Taking a cleansing breath, she tried to calm herself since she didn't want to make a scene. Gold's constant harping on her caregiving was beginning to bother her, because she couldn't fix the mistakes of her past.

He surprised her by showing concern. "Have you considered getting the boy's custody back?"

Biting her lip and turning her cup around in her hands, she gave a scoff and shook her head. "Custody? Are you kidding me? Regina would sooner have me killed than enter a legal battle... That, and I honestly don't know if I could give Henry everything he needs. I'm not exactly rich..."

With a roll of the eyes, she added, "And now that my being a jail bird has come to light, I doubt there'll be a judge in the world who'll let me keep my son. "

"Emma, you've had your reasons to be in jail but surely no mom should be condemned because of that. Perhaps I could have a look at your legal papers? I am your benefactor after all."

He smiled to her in such a way that he practically dared her to refuse him the right. Mr Gold's hand found his cup of coffee again, which had been forgotten when he had busied himself with the silver and the tea for his guest, and he took a sip, then smiled again. He leaned forward, bringing himself closer to her.

"If you really want to then all you need to do is say the word and you can have my support." With a mysterious smile he eased back again and glanced away.

"But you're right. Now would be too early for these sort of plans. Just keep in mind _never to lose faith_. I know you've it in you, Emma. You have what it takes to be a good parent. Already you're the mother Henry wishes for and you're making it true. You'll be a good parent."

Any other word could not come out. Mr Gold's memories troubled him and reminded him of where he had failed. And thus he opted for silence and a thoughtful gaze.

Emma quirked a brow. "Alright, I got why you wanted to help me get the Sheriff position, because of the whole deal and all, but why would you want to help me get my son back? I've done nothing for you to make you take my side in this, so if this is some personal vendetta against Regina, I honestly don't want to get involved. I've got enough on my plate as it is."

Tracing her finger along the rim of her cup, she added softly, "But if you're doing this because you genuinely want to help? ...I-I guess I can't really refuse. Henry is my only Achilles heel, and I'm not ashamed to admit it." Not seeming to notice his expressions or how he'd drawn himself closer, Emma kept her furrowed gaze on the floor and she anxiously jiggled her foot. "I guess that more than anything, I'm afraid to lose... I feel like I've finally been given a second chance, so I'd hate to just wake up and find out it's all blown up in my face."

With an inward groan, she realized she was getting sentimental...around Gold , of all people. She didn't want him knowing she had a soft side, because he wasn't her friend. Perhaps he was an ally of sorts, but she couldn't trust him yet.

Mr Gold, however, remained silent and in a pensive state. His eyes were averted, his lips tightly clipped, his chin resting on his hand. All in all he looked lost in thought as he pondered what to do or say next. He wanted to make her feel at ease but there was nothing he could say that wouldn't make him seem weak too.

Vouchsafing no reply, the older male brought his cup of coffee close to his lips again and blew against the hot surface. Small traces of steam escaped and indicated the coffee itself wasn't to go down without a fight. Mr Gold noticed thus albeit having his eyes turned to the floor, and instead of taking a sip he blew again and waited.

An awkward silence filled the room.


	3. 28 Years

**Desperate Souls**

_Chapter 1:Rabbit Heart_

**28 Years**

Emma was a little unnerved by Gold's silence, because she was accustomed to him having an answer for everything. Had she genuinely surprised him by her frankness, or had she caught him in a lie? It truly bugged her that she couldn't figure out which it was, because in most cases she was quite good at reading people.

"Aren't you going to answer me?" She fished, her eyes narrowing slightly as she observed his demeanor. He almost seemed to be in another world, his gaze soft and pensive as he continuously blew at his coffee.

Crossing and un-crossing her legs, Emma began to tap her fingers against her thigh as she searched for the right words. Surely there was a way to coax Gold out of his sudden fog? A nice "earth to Gold" more than likely would just earn her more ridicule about being a "youngster," so instead she pressed, "Have you ever had a family, Mr. Gold? Because if you know anything about the meaning of having a child, you'll understand where I'm coming from. It's almost like having an actual purpose when otherwise you had none...like life's that much brighter. I need him, but I want to get him back without any funny business. That stunt with the fire was completely unacceptable."

His large brown eyes rolled back to her and held so many emotions at once that had it been a sea she would have drowned in it. As soon as his emotions had shone through, as soon as they had gone and his face hardened until he wore his usual shopkeeper's mask of indifference.

"I know how it is to value life, Emma. And if anything I know not to underestimate someone who acts for their child."

His gaze returned to his hands and the cup in it and like a small, tiny old man he sipped from it. Mr Gold seemed to blend into the background, shrouding into a corner, disappearing as he was becoming none. And for a moment he silently remained that way.

Then, with a wet click of the lips, he smiled tiredly at her again and was back fully the way he was. He redeemed himself, he became Mr Gold again; a powerful man of wealth and taste.

"I'm not a great one for conversation, am I? I am reluctant to talk about the past."

"Fair enough... I won't ask any more questions," Emma agreed, setting her cup off to the side and folding her hands in her lap. "It wasn't that I was trying to pry, I'm just trying to figure out why and how this will benefit you. I mean, no offense or anything, but about 98% of the time, everything you do is meant to help you in some form."

Sparing a gaze off to the far corner of the room, she softly added, "For what it's worth, I'm not big on talking about the past, either. The only good thing that came from it was Henry, but now that he's also in my current life, there's no need for me to go back there. Ever." Watching him sullenly brood over his cup, she prodded, "What has Regina done to make you so against her? It's kind of obvious you're trying to undermine everything she does."

His gaze turned foul and he stretched his good leg. His right hand settled just above his knee and he wrinkled his nose. "Miss Swan, is there no end to your questions? I enjoy your company, I really do. But I see no purpose for your questions."

Emma's eyes fluttered in momentary surprise, yet she cleared her throat and shook her head. "Ok...um, I'm sorry? I can't help it that I'm a naturally inquisitive person, especially when someone like you is offering me their help. If you were in my shoes, wouldn't you be the same way?" With a pause, she laughed a little and corrected herself, "Oh, right...no more questions. Sorry." Rising from her perch, she stretched her limbs and announced, "I can tell when I'm bothering people, so I might as well take this opportunity to leave before the sun goes down. You mentioned hating slumber parties, after all."

With a smirk, Emma zipped up her coat before eying Gold curiously. He appeared to be lost in thought (no surprise there), a peculiar drawing seeming to be holding his attention as he stared off into space. The drawing of a man holding a baby wrapped in a blanket. The man being awfully similar to Mr Gold and the blanket being a typical boyish color. The man looked affectionate at the child.

"You draw that?" Emma asked, now motioning to it with her hand. "Looks kind of like you... And hopefully that's a question you can actually answer."

"Yes," Mr Gold said, voice husky so he had to clear it before he could repeat himself, "Yes I can answer that."

Emma looked up, surprised and pleased that Gold was finally going to answer one of her questions. He was a mysterious man, but she was hoping to somehow figure out a way to make him open up. Somehow she felt it was in her best interest, especially since he was the key to the town.

"And no I did not. One of the town's people drew it the day Henry arrived in town." He looked straight at her with stern penetrating eyes. "But of course you already figured as much. My hands are not good for drawing, only for creating documents that should then be signed. Contracts, as they are called. Images like this one I cannot create myself. I'm not a great artist at that trait."

Shrugging, she returned, "Well, you never know...just figured I'd ask. I can't believe the town took such an interest in my son... It's almost as if this is a celebratory picture."

Mr Gold clipped his lips tightly together and was wringing his hands in front of him. The image had been there on purpose, to stir feelings, emotions and possibly memories inside of the young woman in front of him. He tilted his head and his eyes narrowed as he watched her. "It is indeed me, with Henry."

Head jerking toward him upon hearing his announcement, she narrowed her eyes and asked, "_You_? Why you? I mean, he's the mayor's son, and considering how touchy she is about my even looking at Henry, I'm surprised she allowed you to pose for such an intimate picture."

Suddenly appearing wistful, she turned her back to Gold and appraised the picture more thoroughly. "I barely got to hold him before he was taken away from me... As sad as it sounds, you probably spent more time with him as a child than I did. I envy you for that."

Mr Gold's jaw clenched but despite this his cheeks colored, as if he was touched by her words and perhaps a little embarrassed. "You barely had to hold him?" He asked, Scottish accent rasping.

Eyes still glued to the picture, she obviously failed to notice Gold's reaction and sighed. "Yeah, well I didn't count on meeting him 10 years later...that kind of does something to my conscience since he knows I could've been there for him, but chose not to be. I should've known better that giving him up for adoption wasn't his best shot, because I was adopted, and I had a miserable life. I obviously wasn't thinking straight when I made that decision, because now..." She sighed. "... Now I want him back, but I don't have much of a choice."

His eyes saddened and he looked at her tiredly. "But it doesn't work that way, does it. The connection was there and you knew it, you felt it. No one could replace that empty spot. No one but him, your son."

Hearing Gold's words, Emma felt a pang in her heart and turned to regard him curiously. It was almost as though he were taking the words right out of her mouth, and she nodded weakly. "Yeah...I guess it was so. It was almost like giving up the one part of me that meant anything, but I figured I was doing what was right. If I'd known he'd be adopted by someone he considered an "evil queen," I probably would've reconsidered. ...Or at least demanded he'd gotten a better living situation."

Mr Gold gestured for her to sit down again. "I regret you had to go through all that."

Emma softly assured him, "You don't have to take pity on me...I'm sure you have better things to do than listen to my sob stories about my son. I've met plenty of men in my lifetime, and no matter how nice they are, none of them are truly interested in discussing emotional topics unless they lead to...um..." Shrugging if off, she feebly amended, "You get the idea."

This caused a small smirk to creep onto Mr Gold's face and he gave a nod. "I see," He said with a half-hearted chuckle, "and I am sure you wouldn't dream of ever laying down with me."

Eyeing him in disgust, she sarcastically returned, "Gee, what gave it away? Perhaps the fact that we're usually at each other's throats, or that I'm usually wearing a "you make me sick" expression when we're in the same room?"

He watched her carefully as he said it to see if she had any memory whatsoever left of the night they'd shared together and the 'magical' moment in which Henry had been created. Even if this memory only presented itself to her as a dream that'd be enough for him to know.

His brown orbs locked with hers at this and his small smile twitched. "After all I must not be a man of your taste. A young thing like you, with such confidence, and such beauty. The only thing that'd make me as a man attractive must be my wealth and one doesn't get that by simply sleeping with me. I've nothing else to offer. No kind personality, no good looks, no youth."

He eyed her suspiciously, trying to lure an answer out of her that'd satisfy him. A compliment of some sort would be fine.

The fact that he kept complimenting her made her shiver, because she didn't like the turn their conversation had suddenly taken. What was he getting at? Was he fishing for compliments of some sort? With a smirk, she asked, "Why, are you suggesting you have women lining up at your back door because of your wealth, Gold? I assumed you were rich because of the fear you invoke, but judging by this shop? I don't think it's your main source of income. Makes me wonder what truly goes down in the political arena down here."

If anything, Gold's comments had only raised suspicions of her own. She honestly hadn't given much thought to his wealth until now (she wasn't much of a material girl), so she had to wonder how he'd acquired so much money. Everyone else besides Regina, after all, seemed to have a modest income.

"Oddly enough, you've been very kind to me today," Emma finally spoke, "but this conversation is getting a little too weird for me... So unless you're asking me to play matchmaker, I think we should change the subject before I hurt you."

The saccharine smile on her face seemed to belie her anger, but she was actually putting it on in an almost mocking manner.

"Matchmaker," Mr Gold mused, his brown orbs sliding from her pacing form back to the picture.

Now taking this opportunity to do exactly that which she had suggested, changing topics, Emma folded her arms and confessed, "I recently told Henry his father was dead, so you're right. Dwelling on the past is pointless. If I can't even remember him, he might as well be dead, am I right?"

Frowning as she glanced off to the side, she decided to hold her tongue since Gold didn't need to know what kind of a person she'd been. To protect herself, she'd continuously had one-night stands so she'd never have to see the person ever again. In fact, she'd had so many that she could barely recall any of the men, so it bothered her that she'd accidentally birthed a child from one of those flings.

"You forgot who Henry's father is?" Mr Gold said, his brown eyes wide as he tried to fake the shocked expression to what be considered appropriate to this situation. His left hand was placed on his knee and his right clutched the top of his cane. He looked aside and blew some air between his teeth, hissing before he looked at her again in earnest.

Since Emma had been gazing fixedly at the wall, she'd missed the shocked expression, but she could hear the intonation in his voice. She took his shock as disapproval, and she immediately felt her guard go up. "I did, yes," she coolly returned. "Judge me all you want, but I wasn't any different from any other child in the system. Don't get me wrong, some of us genuinely do turn out fine, but most of us rebel in any way that we can... Sex just so happened to be best for me at the time."

God, she couldn't believe she'd just confessed that to Storybrooke's number one creeper...

"What else did you tell him? That his father was a savior? That he rescued people and is a true hero, just to inspire the boy?" Mr Gold nodded as he let this new idea sink and tried to see the possibilities it gave. "That must be far better to him than the truth."

Absently rubbing at her face, Emma sighed and nodded. "Yeah, uh...yeah, that's exactly what I told him, more or less. Firefighters are brave, heroic, and expected to die in the line of duty, so I figured it was a win-win story to give. He deserves a father like that, and I'm sorry I wasn't able to give it to him. Hell, he deserves more than me , but I'm doing the very best I can."

He looked at Emma again. "Have you considered visiting Dr Hopper? He's very good at these conversations and therapies. If you can't recall... or for any reason feel like you need someone to support you mentally I would say he is the man to go to."

Upon hearing Gold's suggestion, Emma scoffed and shook her head. "Sooo, your grand idea is I see a shrink, eh? I know I sound fucked up, but I can assure you this isn't eating away at me inside...not really, anyway. At first I thought you were trying to suggest Archie was the father," she confessed, laughing at the ridiculousness of such an idea. In fact, the idea of anyone in Storybrooke being the father was quite amusing.

Mr Gold pensively licked his lips in a way that told Emma she wasn't to leave just yet. His eyes were on the floor, pondering. "How can it be you don't remember, Emma? If I may be so bold to ask. Were you... in this relationship willingly? Or this particular instance... Did it happen just once?" He was fishing, "Is it because you had many lovers or was it something else at the time?"

Shrugging at Gold's prodding (why did he care?), Emma admitted, "I don't know why...I mean, I've heard that some type of trauma can erase all memory, but I know for a God-given fact I was a substance abuser. It's a miracle I remember anything at all..."

Now leaning against the wall, she gazed up at the ceiling and grumbled, "I feel like I'm in a confessional booth... Father, please forgive me my sins - it's been 28 years since my last confession." With a slight smile at that, she softly sustained, "It was only once, I think... But once is all it takes, as you know. I'm pretty sure I met him at a crowded get-together, because that was nine months before...um...before Henry was born."

Mr Gold smirked at her as she recalled that one time event where he had planned to meet her, drug her, take her even against her will if she so insisted. And the result had been stunning. Henry was a wonderful and clever lad, not to mention a beautiful kid. Mr Gold couldn't even begin to state all aspects he adored and took pride in his son.

"28 eight years," He mused silently, suddenly taking pity in what she had said. It wasn't exactly his fault that she'd been taken away, that she'd been torn out of her father's hands so many years ago. But he had created and passed on the curse, and planned for most of this to happen, so it was only natural that next to pity he felt guilt. But pushing his feelings aside, he drummed his fingers against the arm of the chair and glanced up at her. "You're a remarkable woman, Miss Swan."

Eying him curiously when Gold called her "remarkable," Emma scoffed and shook her head. "Yeah, I'm 'remarkable,' alright. I'm 28, have been moving for years since I can't find any roots, and don't even know my own parents. I almost wish Henry was right with his musings, because at least then I would have parents..." Realizing she was rambling, she quickly stopped speaking since she didn't wish Gold to know about her son's theories. She didn't want him whisking Henry off to an insane asylum for believing David and Mary Margaret were her legal kin.

Mr Gold took another pensive stance, thinking back of that night and how young she had looked. How little she had changed. He was seeing and reliving it all again. "What would you do if you found the father was still alive? Would you tell Henry?" He hoped not for he didn't want Henry to know his father wasn't the hero he'd been told of but the villain everyone in town feared.

Surprised by Gold's question, Emma cleared her throat and shrugged. "Well...that honestly depends on who the father is. If he's a good, decent, kind-hearted man, then yes, I'll have no qualms with telling Henry I was mistaken about his death. But if he's as greasy and undesirable as most of the men I took to bed, then no, I'd rather keep him safe from such corruption." Eying him suspiciously, she demanded, "Why, do you have some magical time machine that can take me back to find out? You almost sound like you have an idea, and that admittedly makes me nervous... I mean, maybe deep-down I don't want to know who the father is."

When she uttered those words, _"You almost sound like you have an idea"_, Mr Gold gave his most famous I-know-the-truth-and-won't-tell-you-yet smirk he had shown so many times before. The smirk he had when Regina accused him of the adoption of Henry not being an accident, the smirk when he played all the cards straight into his hands and was the only one who knew how things really were.

He knew.

With his brown eyes, darker than usual due to conflicting emotions inside of him, set on her he licked his lips. "I think it might be better you don't. But some day young Henry might learn and you'll need to have him forgive you for lying."

Emma furrowed her brows. "Why do you say that? I was _this _close to telling him I goofed, but I just...I saw the twinkle in his eyes, and I knew I couldn't disappoint him. I've already done enough of that to last the poor kid two lifetimes, so is it really that awful to lie about his parentage?" Pausing, she added, "Henry's a really smart kid - I'm worried that he will find out someday, and if he does, I'm not sure if he'll ever be able to understand why I did what I did. I don't know if it's best to tell him now before the lie gets too out of hand, or if I should just take my chances and pray that he never finds out."

"And if he did?" Mr Gold said. "I'm certain he'll understand... eventually."

Emma groaned and raked her fingers through her hair. "You make it sound so easy! I almost envy you since you don't have this responsibility, but somehow, well, I wouldn't give it up for anything in the world. I've really grown to love that kid."

Pacing back and forth, Emma breathed deeply before remarking, "By the way, I sure I'm not getting billed for this, Dr. Gold..." Although it was meant to be a joke, she somehow couldn't bring herself to smile. She was far too heartbroken over the hell she'd single-handedly put Henry through. He didn't ask to be born, so it was her job to make his life stable, again.

"Well, consider the payment..." Mr Gold's smile faded when he saw the expression on Emma's face and became more timid again. He knew he shouldn't tease the young woman at a time like this. Although it could be the perfect remedy for her mood and sadness it could also be taken wrong by her. And judging her former reactions Mr Gold didn't want to risk upsetting the girl even more. He folded his hands in front of him. "Emma," He said, thinking he'd better stop rambling incessantly about the boy. He wanted to continue their talk to see if he could get her to remember or realize who he was but he knew they should be calling it a day. She was still wearing her coat and ready to leave, after all.

"If you don't wish to find out it might be for the better. The truth can stay hidden for now. I will no longer detain you."

He got up from his chair and limped over to the side of the shop where he held a key on a chord. He pocketed it and limped closer to her, indicating he was on his way to the door and intended to leave for home. It was getting late and outside the rain came down in sheets. Storybrooke's weather probably had picked up his mood for once as he felt close to tears- had he not been infected for so long by the Dark One it would have showed. His face was kind, gentle, as he smiled at her and placed his hand on the doorknob.

"Shop's gonna close." He said with a smile.

Hearing the somber tone to Gold's voice, Emma knew that it was time for her to leave. She felt a little embarrassed, because she should've known better than to impose on someone when her son was none of his concern. And worse yet, she'd imposed on Gold , the one man who controlled everything in the town. Would he somehow use this newfound knowledge against her? Trying her best to appear nonchalant, Emma turned to face Gold and nodded. "Yeah, um...you're right, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to throw all this on you or damper your mood, so just pretend it never happened. I'd rather forget it did, after all."

As she followed Gold to the door, she took note of the weather and groaned. Growing up, she'd actually liked the rain - loved it, in fact - yet she was definitely in no mood to go dancing in the rain on a night like this. She'd given up such follies years ago, because she'd only been able to act so childlike and carefree when she had hope . Once she'd realized that she was, indeed alone, and that she'd never actually know her birth parents, she'd become sullen, defiant, and angry. As far as she was concerned, she'd never dance again.

Pushing past Gold to indicate she wouldn't be wasting any more of his time, Emma stepped out into the pouring rain and tilted her head up toward the heavens. The sky was dark and angry, yet the droplets felt soft and serene against her face. Sensing Gold behind her, she softly apologized, "Again, I'm real sorry about all this... For what it's worth, I appreciate your listening and offering to help. If I actually do decide to fight for Henry's custody, I...I'll contact you."

Mr Gold's wry and painful smile indicated that whatever Emma would chose he would help her if she needed, but he was still hiding something. The rain touched his head and the raindrops got stuck in his hair, as if to adorn him. He didn't flinch despite the rain was pelting down on him, and didn't seek shelter. The ground became slippery and if he were to take a step his cane had to be put firmly on the pavement or he could risk slipping.

"Thank you for your faith. I'll trust you do that, Miss Swan." They were out and about so he used her surname in case anyone would be nearby and overhear them. Yet he couldn't help whisper to it "_Emma_."

He smiled and started on his way home, favoring Emma with one last look and giving her an arch smile.

His evening was spent pondering and his night disturbed by unpleasant dreams of the child being taken away and Emma denying him to see his son ever again. Their son. When he woke up it was only one o'clock in the morning and he was covered in sweat, soaked. His hands were placed behind him, his chest uncovered for he only wore his baggy pants*, his breath was short and his brown hair was sticking to his forehead. With eyes wide he realized it had only been a dream and as he placed himself down he started making plans to avoid such a situation to become reality.

Mr Gold wondered in silence if Emma truly didn't recall him and their night spent. And if she did, would she be bothered now? Or would she have slept with no trouble and haunting demons of her past to awaken her like his demons had awakened him? As he lay on his side and stared into the darkness he regretted for a moment the man he was. If he'd been different he would not have been able to trick the queen and get Emma pregnant. He would not have had Henry in this world. But it was the reluctance and attitude of the boy whenever seeing him that made him regret the man he was. Not the fire fighter Emma had told their son to be, not a good soul either. Should he actually regret anything at all?

Morning arrived all of a sudden, for he'd fallen asleep again and awake by the sound of his alarm and groaned at seeing the time. After a rushed shower and breakfast he hastened to his shop to open it and settled himself behind the counter with a cup coffee to start the day. Or at least, to drink his sorrow away. He didn't mind mixing it up with a little alcohol (man, he needed something strong that day because he'd been in hell all night. He needed the strength and energy to plot and plan and make deals).

* * *

><p><em>*Golden speedos it should be, according to Mr Carlyle on twitter.<em>


	4. Protecting the Nest

**Desperate Souls**

_Chapter 2:_ _Fragmentation_

**Protecting the Nest**

Emma had barely paid attention to Gold's farewell, for her mind was on other things. She knew she should be ashamed that she couldn't remember the father, but somehow she found it didn't matter to her. If he was a person who was meant to stay in her life, he would've found a way to do so. But thus far? All men were MIA in her daily routine, and somehow...somehow that was just fine by her.

Arriving home very late (she'd taken a pit stop at Granny's Diner for a drink), Emma wearily threw her soaked coat onto the kitchen counter and plopped down onto a stool. With her chin cupped in her hand, she shook her head and groaned. Her head was beginning to spin (perhaps she'd had one drink too many), and her inner wars weren't helping in the slightest.

Should she trust Gold and allow him to help? Because the last time she'd let him assist her, she and Regina had nearly ended up in a morgue. Smug bastard... Who did he think he was?

But then, what good could possibly come of a custody battle for Gold? What would he have to gain? Perhaps, undoubtedly, another hefty favor?

Resting her forehead against the counter, she gave a grunt and found herself being taken under by the throes of sleep.

* * *

><p>Emma had had a surprisingly dream-less night, which was a miracle in itself, but somehow all seemed right with the world again when she found herself in Henry's company the next morning.<p>

He was trying to show her his latest theory (something about Belle and a magical book), but Emma was only half-listening. She was far too busy smiling and studying her son's face. He was so clever and bright, and she couldn't help but be proud of what she'd created. Such a beautiful boy...

"Emma!" Came his impatient cry. "Were you even listening to me?"

"Hmm?" She asked, now wearing a deer in the headlights expression. "Uhh, yes, of course I was! Something about fairytales..."

Rolling his eyes, he muttered, "Gee, what gave it away? C'mon, Emma, you need to focus if you want Operation Cobra to work."

With a nod, she assured him, "Yep, sure thing, kid... I promise I'll pay more attention." As they walked, she realized (to her slight horror) that they were heading toward Gold's pawnshop. Sending Henry a questioning look out of the corner of her eye, she asked, "Uhhh...kid? Where are we going, exactly?"

"I'm hoping if I lie and say I need a book, I might be able to finally tell who Gold is," Henry confessed. "I would've thought he'd be one of the Evil Queen's helpers, but none of those titles seem to fit..."

Wincing, Emma begrudgingly found herself following her son toward the one place she did not want to be that morning. Granted, she and Gold had had a fairly civilized conversation (for once), but that didn't mean she wanted to grace him with her presence yet again . Being the first and last person for her to see, after all, wasn't exactly what she had in mind for Gold.

Mr Gold stood sipping from his mixture of coffee and something stronger when he saw his boy approach and seconds before entering the shop he had his cup down on the counter and his smug smile back on his face.

As Henry entered the shop with his typical childlike exuberance, Emma hung back a moment before reluctantly following suit. Clearing her throat, she locked eyes with Gold behind the counter and couldn't help but grimace. "Uhhh, hi...miss me? Henry came by since he wants to ask about something."

'Good god, please get this over with...' she inwardly begged.

Mr Gold leaned on both hands as Henry darted forth and allowed his eyes to meet Henry's before drifting to Emma who had greeted him clumsily. She clearly felt uncomfortable around him and he wasn't sure whether to regret it or take delight in the fact he seemed to repulse her.

"Hello Henry, Hello Em-Miss Swan." He smiled at the both of them.

Emma cringed a bit at the way Gold had tripped over her name, she didn't exactly want Henry to think they were on a first name basis, yet she remained silent and gave a stiff nod in response. If anyone else were with her, she would probably be a bit more congenial, probably. But Henry was the only person she genuinely loved, so she automatically felt her guard go up. If Gold so much as looked at her son the wrong way, she'd repeatedly smash his skull into the counter.

"Is that so?" Mr Gold faked surprise and leaned over the counter again to face their son with a surprised smile.

"You wanted to ask me something, Henry?"

He stood there in silence, ready for the question to fall and smiling with such sincere kindness that it felt to be out of character for him. The genuine expression of concern, love and willingness to help proved a great contrast to the man he was known to be.

With her hand on Henry's shoulder as if to show this maternal side, Emma ushered him forward and stood over him like a sentinel. Finally noting the way Gold was unabashedly admiring the boy, she suddenly felt as though she were in the Twilight Zone. Why the hell was Gold being so nice ? Was that even in his vocabulary?

Henry suddenly seemed nervous, his hands gripping at his book of fairytales as he stared up at the older man. He knew his reputation in town - who didn't ? - but he somehow had assumed he'd be able to stand his ground against such a big adversary of Operation Cobra.

Forcing a weak smile to his lips, Henry finally spoke, "I...uh...I was hoping you maybe had some books I could look at? Mary Margaret said she got these fairytales from here, so...I guess I was hoping to find something else to read?"

Mr Gold nodded at the boy and said to him with a smile "You've come to the right address." He got his cane from behind the counter and took a few limping paces to get to the front of the shop. He passed Henry at a short distance, as if he was going to place his hand on the boy's shoulder, but instead he gripped a book from one of the cabinets. It was as if the book had been placed there on purpose, as if he had expected for the visit and the call on him.

"Yes, Miss Blanchard bought the book here when you were much younger, Henry. And fate happens to have it that I have another example. I just stumbled upon it the other day." His voice was breathy, low and had a form of hidden enthusiasm embedded.

"Here," He brushed the dust from the cover and turned back to the lad to hand him a book just as brown as the one Mary had given him. Only the title differed.

Emma watched this exchange with suspicious eyes, yet her gaze seemed to soften once she realized there was no real threat. Gold didn't seem up to his usual tricks. She honestly didn't believe in Henry's fairytale nonsense, but at the very least, his theories were entertaining.

"The History of Storybrooke." The title said, and Mr Gold read aloud. "It's supposed to be of the same writer. I've never read it myself and of course it's more of a history than anything else."

Surprised when she heard the title, Emma subconsciously leaned closer for a closer look, but Gold was already blowing dust from the cover. "Kind of ironic," she spoke up, smiling in spite of herself. "A fairytale author also wrote a book about history ? I can't even imagine how that'd work out."

Gold's eyes met those of Emma.

"I somehow felt you might like it. You're a smart lad." His words were directed at Henry but as he spoke he watched Emma. Only at the last two words he directed his gaze at Henry again and his smile returned.

"Well, what do you say?"

Looking to Henry for some sort of affirmation, Emma was surprised to find her son so hopelessly transfixed. Good God, what was he up to now?

Daring to reach out and experimentally finger the cover, Henry finally nodded and agreed, "Yeah, that'd be great. You mean, I'll be the very first person in Storybrooke to read it?"

Emma could tell by his expression that he was already plotting, and somehow...she was unnerved.

The toothy smile the man gave her and Henry was enough to confirm what the boy desired to be true. "Yes, I think that'd be right." Henry's eyes lit up at Gold's affirmation, but all Emma could do was scowl.

Mr Gold, now relieved from the heavy book, limped back to his counter and hid behind it again as was his usual custom. He took his cup of coffee for he hated it when it would turn cold, but upon sipping it had to conclude the sad fact had become reality. The coffee had lost its warmth and was now a disagreeable cold drink.

He placed it aside again and leaned his elbows on the counter.

For some reason or another he expected them to ask for its price, the value of the book. Of course it was priceless as it confirmed certain suspicions about the town's origins the boy might have (albeit them being between the lines. He would have to read carefully to get the clues). The book would also show some more about Regina building the town and Mr Gold's fair share in it (including nice black and white pictures). He wondered if the boy would look at them and think about what he saw, or if he would ignore them because he despised the characters.

Following the older man back over toward the counter, Emma lowered her voice and gruffly whispered, "Just what do you think you're doing? I appreciate that you're giving him a book and everything - I mean, what kind of parent would I be if I discouraged reading - but did you have to fuel his obsession? I'm trying to get him to forget about fairytales - it's unhealthy to think we're living in a fake world!"

"Emma?"

Wincing with guilt, the blonde whirled around and plastered a fake smile on her face. "Yeah, kid? Whatcha need?"

"Can we get this? Pleeease? It's got all sorts of things inside that'll be helpful for..." Pausing once he realized he almost blew their cover, Henry instead settled on a wink since he knew Emma would be able to read between the lines.

Emma winked back, although she was less than pleased about their sudden predicament. Granted, she wasn't anywhere near convincing Henry that she wasn't the long lost daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming, but what could she do? Giving the boy a history of Storybrooke would only service as a hindrance in the long run. Sending Gold a murderous glare, she coolly demanded, "Alright, how much do you want for it? Perhaps the skin off my back?"

Had they not asked, had she not asked he would have uncharacteristically have offered the book for free. Now that the question was posed he had to bite his tongue and force back a smile.

"How about you'll let me know what's inside." Mr Gold finally managed to say. His fatherly and good side had won and he could not get himself to ask a price for this. No matter how tempting it would sound to have Emma undress and pleasure him in the backroom, or politer; the idea of her having to have a drink with him. It would all rouse too much suspicion now that Henry was here, and money he didn't want from her. She was already struggling as it was.

Emma blinked, understandably surprised by Gold's response. "What, no deals? No strings attached? You're actually starting to scare me...who are you, and what have you done with Storybrooke's infamous snake in the grass?" It was a good thing Emma couldn't read minds, or else Gold would most certainly be a dead man at that moment.

Mr Gold merely eyed her with jest before he turned back to the boy. "How does that sound, Henry? You just come and visit me once you've read the book and tell me what's written inside."

His kind yet wry smile reached the boy, making him flinch and wonder about the old man's intentions.

Glancing at Henry when he was addressed, Emma immediately started searching his face for any sort of tell-tale reaction. She could tell the poor kid was nervous, and in turn that made her irritable. Although she desired to shake Gold by the collar and tell him to stop tormenting her son, she knew she couldn't lose face in front of Henry. She had to be strong for the boy.

Finally, Henry gave a soft, "Yeah, um...ok, I guess I can do that. But only if Emma comes with me."

Smart boy. Henry knew better than to go into the spider's parlor alone.

Finally Mr Gold's eyes rolled back to Emma and he retorted. "When will you see I'm not trying to be a fiend."

Hearing Gold whispering to her, Emma's eyes narrowed and she shot him a cold look. "Not being a fiend? Forgive me, but it's pretty hard to regain someone's trust when they try to set your ass on fire . How can I ever trust you again? I did once, and look where that got me - I may be Sheriff, but I'm constantly stressing over the "favor" I owe you."

He leaned over the counter. "I'm doing this for the boy. Next time you come and buy, you can pay the double price for it."

Taken aback by his words, she subconsciously leaned away from him and frowned. "Why are you being so nice to my son? If you're trying to sucker him into something, so help me God, I will hurt you. I'm not beneath jumping over that counter and making that limp worse ." Pausing, she added, "Why should I pay next time? I'm not ashamed to pay in front of my son - it adds character."

The smirk on his face alone was good enough to suggest a payment that could consist out of a long list of things ranging from undressing playfully to having rough sex on the counter. But by the look of Emma's squinted eyes Mr Gold felt it would be safer to take a different approach. After all he wouldn't want to inflict any sort of damage upon their son.

"Miss Swan, if you keep insulting me I will have you pay not two coins but four. Now off with you,"

He wanted to usher her out because quite frankly he was on the verge of ripping the clothes of her body or breaking down in tears at her rejection. It could go either way, but whichever way his mood chose to go Henry shouldn't be witnessing it.

"And how is four coins supposed to bankrupt me?" Emma spat, but instantly felt irritated when Gold demanded she leave. Oh, she'd leave alright, but she did not enjoy being bossed around, and especially not by the smarmy man behind the counter.

Placing her palms flat against the counter, and thus mirroring Gold's authoritative stance, Emma leaned forward and hissed, "Mark my words, I'll find a way to arrest you for something. You got me this job, so now I might as well put it to good use, am I right?"

"Emma, look at this!"

Jolting back to attention, the blonde turned her back to Gold and looked at Henry avidly reading. "Once we leave, I'll need to show you something important, ok? Just make sure to remind me." The boy said with a smile.

"As if I'd need to," Emma wryly returned, smiling as she made her way over toward her son. Placing a hand on his shoulder, the blonde, her metaphorical hackles raising when she heard Gold's voice close behind. Mr Gold led her to the door and showed her out by gesturing with his hand. His cane keeping him in balance. "I have business elsewhere to attend to and I need to close the shop for a while."

It wasn't truly a lie, for he was horrible at telling lies at all. He usually snaked around topics he wanted to reveal nothing about. And he would meet Regina and Abigail in a quarter or so.

"Business in town?" she asked, a skeptical look on her face as she and Henry were shown to the door. "Well if it's as invigorating as Regina's "business meetings," I'm sure you'll be very happy upon your return."

"You enjoy that book, Henry." Mr Gold told the boy with a genuine smile. The boy gave a cautious nod, but excitement was evident across his young face. This would help Operation Cobra so much!

Moving to follow her son, Emma found herself momentarily halting when Gold indicated for her to listen. Eyes narrowing, she allowed him to speak, but deep-down she didn't believe him.

"And Miss Swan," The pawnbroker said, eyeing her when he was certain Henry was too busy making his way outside and into safety again. "I've no bad intentions toward the boy. Even snakes protect their nests." He spoke through gritted teeth, snarling the words at her as if they contained poison.

The snake comment actually made her smile, yet she responded with a mere shake of the head. "A snake you are, I won't dispute that, but I have a feeling the "nest" that you're protecting is your own ass."

Pointing a finger at him, she hotly added, "And if you breathe a word of our conversation from earlier last night, I'll kill you. I may be Sheriff now, but never underestimate a mother's will - by this point, I'll do just about everything to protect Henry."

"Oh yes," Mr Gold answered to that. "Never underestimate someone who is acting for their child." But it wasn't as if the words were about her, it was as if they contained more than just Emma, as if they had something to do with Mr Gold as well.

Emma's eyes blazed at Gold's response, for although he meant it in a paternal way, she misread his tone and thought he was belittling her. Longing to slam the shop door shut in his face, she instead gave a soft, "C'mon, Henry, let's go home," and steered her son to the right.

The man watched the two walk off before he limped back into the shop to get a strong drink. After composing himself he forced himself to meet Regina and Abigail who were already waiting for him and together they discussed a little dilemma (something Mr Gold was reluctant to help with and only too pleased once they sent him homeward).

Needless to say he didn't sleep very well that night.


	5. The Call

**Desperate Souls**

_Chapter 2:_ _Fragmentation_

**The Call**

As they walked off, poor Henry practically being dragged due to her hurry to get away, Emma swore she felt Gold's eyes burning into their backs. It was enough to make her shudder, but when her son asked what was wrong, she insisted she was merely cold.

After dropping Henry off at Regina's, Emma felt the only place to logically go was her own home. She was in need of some serious TLC with a bubble bath, because after dealing with the stress-inducing Mr. Gold, simple relaxation was never enough.

Entering the apartment with a sigh, Mary Margaret looked up from peeling potatoes and arched a brow. "Everything alright? You seem...tense."

"Yeah, yeah, peachy keen," Emma grumbled. She started to head towards her room, only to stop short and linger with uncertainty. After a few more moments of warring with herself, the woman sighed and turned back to face her friend. "Mary Margaret, could I talk to you about something?"

Looking up from her task in surprise, she nodded and agreed, "Well yes, of course... What's wrong, Emma?"

"I'm not even sure yet," she confessed, raking a hand through her hair as she came over to the kitchen counter and had a seat. "The truth is, I've gotten myself in a little rut, and I'm not sure if I can get out of it... It's kind of political, if you get my drift."

Mary Margaret winced. "Oh, no...you're not talking about Regina and Gold, are you?"

"Give the woman in paisley a prize," Emma muttered, absently running her fingers along the countertop. "I am so screwed... Gold actually offered to help me get custody of Henry, but you know Regina would make my life a living hell for even thinking of it..."

"Wait, what? You can't be serious!" Mary Margaret exclaimed. "I mean, isn't Gold the one who nearly sabotaged your campaign? Emma, you can't trust that man!"

"Believe me, I don't , but right now? ...I kind of feel he's my only hope."

Making a face of displeasure, Mary Margaret shook her head and began chopping the potatoes a little more fiercely than necessary. After a moment's pause, she suggested, "Perhaps we could...um...invite him over for dinner to discuss?"

If Emma had had a drink in her mouth, she would've done a spit-take. " What ? Oh Mary, you can't be serious... I can barely stand being around him when I have to be!"

"Well...neither can I, truthfully, but if you really plan on going through with this whole custody battle, I want to assess what Gold has to say. I think three heads are better than one, in this case," Mary Margaret insisted. "That way, he won't be able to pull one of his little stunts with both of us watching."

Emma sighed. "Mare, I don't know..."

"Go get the phone."

Inwardly smirking at her friend's motherly tone, the blonde gave a defeated, "Very well," and rose from her perch. She stood in front of the phone for at least a good minute, her unease evident as she sent Mary Margaret a pleading look. "Do I have to do this?"

The teacher frowned. "Yes! You're the one who wants to get involved in this mess, so you have to be the one to invite him over! Stop being such a child!"

Scowling (and ironically looking even more child-like), Emma begrudgingly picked up the phone and dialed the number to the pawn shop (did Gold ever even leave that damned place?). After a few rings, she heard him answer and instantly felt sick to her stomach. Pressing her forehead against the wall, she miserably asked, "Gold? Um...are you...are you busy this evening? Because Mary Margaret accidentally made extra food, and...yeah. I guess I'm saying there's room for one more?"

'Please kill me now,' she internally begged.

Mr Gold was surprised when the phone rang and called him away from his valuations. With the items placed aside, an old clock and a few other curious antiques, he limped over to the counter to answer the phone and breathed into it at the sound of Emma's voice. He had expected a lot but not a call from her and for a moment he feared she had recalled the whole 'planned' incident that led to Henry. But alas, she was acting as if her drink had been spiked again for instead of scolding him she invited him over to dinner in a way he could not believe.

"Are you taking the mickey out of me, Miss Swan?" He asked, using her surname for perhaps Mary was there and listening along. He felt like she easily could for she acted a true mother bird around Emma.

If anything her request must be the lowest of all jokes for it was overly clear she had developed a propensity towards him that not even Mr Hopper's therapies could cure. "You mean it?" He said in surprise by hearing Mary's voice piping in the background.

"I'm surprised," He admitted with all due honesty. "And I'd love to accept your offer…" But he changed his mind and bit his lip. For a moment there was silence as he let her believe he were to come. Then he shook his head and the phone made a whooshing sound as he did so, before his lips parted and he found the strength to reply. He loved to go there and visit –dare he say or even think- the grandmother of his son and his own mother-in-law, basically, and the unknowing mother of his child. But he didn't feel like he could take another punch below the girdle and didn't want to cause the object of his desire any more inconvenience by his presence. He pinched his forehead between his fingers.

"But I'm afraid I will have to decline. I wouldn't want to waste your appetite, Miss Swan. Tell your mo-Mary I appreciate her offer. She's the first to actually invite me over for dinner out of kindness and I appreciate that very much."

He closed his eyes and leant his arms on the counter. Why was it so hard to be good? To hell with it, he should just accept!

Luckily Mary, on the other side, bumped Emma aside and spoke into the phone (though Emma was still holding it). "Then how about tomorrow night?" She gave Emma that motherly daring look that told her she had to agree to the offer and she had to agree now . Mary urged her daughter to repeat her offer albeit Gold had already heard it and smiled.

"Tomorrow evening…" Mr Gold found no excuses and clicked his tongue. "I'll be there."

"Good job." Mary said, her bright eyes sparkling with pride as Emma's and Gold's chat had ended and the phone left a pleasing soft sizzling beep. She was acting like the true match-making mum forcing her daughter to do what was considered 'best'. Her arms wrapped around Emma's shoulders as she hung around her neck with a smile. "See, you can do it. Mr Gold won't be that scary, you'll see. And now you have even a day to prepare for meeting him."

Mary's excited little dance once she let go of Emma told the poor girl enough. "We should have you wear something nice. The green dress perhaps? Or you can borrow my white one."

But what had happened between Gold's answering the phone and Mary Margaret's forcefulness was but a blur, and Emma stood by dumbly listening as the school teacher took full control of the situation. Still holding the phone, she anxiously gnawed on her lip and rubbed her toes against the hardwood floor.

Mr. Gold almost seemed to be toying with them - perhaps he enjoyed the discomfort she was obviously imbuing? - but whatever the reason, Emma nearly screamed from the frustration of it all.

It was at that moment that Mary Margaret insisted she repeat the offer, and Emma gave her friend the best, "You have got to be kidding me" look before doing as she was told. She wasn't sure what it was about Mary Margaret, but she had a commanding air about her that was...well...hard to say no to.

Before she knew it, Gold had agreed to the invitation, and Emma pratically whined when Mary Margaret hung up. Only coming back to reality upon her friend's suggestion, Emma's eyes grew wide as she squeaked, "Are you freaking out of your mind ? Mare, do I honestly look like a woman who dresses up, and for men like Gold , no less? I don't want him getting the wrong idea about this whole affair! I'm trying to get him to help me with Henry, not get him to fall into bed with me!"

Mary Margaret blushed at the mental image, then hurriedly cleared her throat. "I, um...point taken. I understand that you're nervous and upset, but you _know_ it's true what they say: a little bit of dolling yourself up goes a long way. Men are far more interested in listening if you look nice."

"Mary Margaret, you're going to make me puke ." Rubbing at the tension headache forming between her eyes, Emma groaned and moved back over to the kitchen counter. After a moment's hesitation, she finally spat, "Alright, fine ! I'll wear the damn green dress, but I won't wear any jewelry, or fix my hair, or God only knows what else you want me to do."

Mary Margaret tried to hide a smile, but was unsuccessful.

"What, you think this is funny ? I swear to God, I could just throw myself off the Storybrooke bridge!"

"You're being over dramatic," the teacher insisted. "I mean, Gold is just a man , Emma, and according to you, you've encountered all sorts of them."

Emma rolled her eyes. "Well yeah, but those were all men I intended on sharing a room with. This guy's just... impossible ."

"Then we'll have to make an impossibly good meal to distract him," Mary Margaret brightly insisted. "And no, before you ask, I am not poisoning him."

Emma had to laugh. "Aw, c'mon, not even just a little ? I've heard arsenic adds a nice kick to certain dishes."

Shaking her head, Mary Margaret urged, "Why don't you go relax until dinnertime? You have a looong day ahead of you tomorrow, so I'd suggest calming down the best you can."

"Yeah, you're right...Gold can't bug me while I'm sleeping ." With this thought as her primary incentive, Emma disappeared into her room and prepared for a nice little nap.

Oh, how wrong she was. Gold had , in fact bugged her during her dreams (or in this case, nightmares), and the memories had plagued her well into the next day.

"What's wrong?"

Emma sent Mary Margaret a look and shook her head. "Do you really have to ask? It's Doomsday, remember?"

Smiling, her friend assured her, "Of course I remember - I'm in the kitchen preparing for it, aren't I?"

"Ugh, are you sure you can't-?"

"Poison it? No, I can't," Mary Margaret interjected, smirking as she rolled out some dough. "Now as for you , shouldn't you be putting on that pretty green dress?"

Emma groaned and rolled her eyes. "God, you're worse than the mom I never had! I really should've told you no, but I guess it's too late, now..."

"Of course it is, silly! Go get ready!"

"I don't see why you're so damn chipper about all this," Emma muttered, but not loud enough for Mary Margaret to overhear.

Storming into her room like a petulant child, she began to irritably riffle through her closet before finding the only dress she currently owned. Holding it up in front of her gaze, she frowned and shook her head. What in God's name was she thinking ? Wearing a dress was A) uncomfortable as all hell, not who she was in the slightest , and C) not how she wanted to present herself to Gold!

Lips pinched in frustration, Emma grumbled to herself and began to ease out of her normal attire. Gold had damn well better be appreciative, because her blood pressure was surely at an unhealthy level by this point. Living in Storybrooke was gradually becoming the bane of her very existence...

Several minutes later, Emma emerged and winced when Mary Margaret began to dote on her. Swiping the teacher's hands away from her face, she snapped, "Will you quit it? I don't need you fixing my hair!"

"I'm sorry, I...I just wanted to make sure you look your best," Mary Margaret insisted. Now returning to the kitchen, she called over her shoulder, "He should be here any minute, so be prepared to greet him."

Emma scowled. "Now why do I have to greet him? This was your idea, so-"

"He's your guest," Mary Margaret firmly cut in. "I may have come up with the idea, yes, but it's you he's truly here to see, not me."

Breathing deeply through her nose, Emma looked up toward the ceiling and prayed for strength. Could this day be any worse?

Knock. Knock. Knock.

"Emma, I think he's here!"

And, it just got worse.


	6. Dinner

**Desperate Souls**

_Chapter 2:_ _Fragmentation_

**Dinner**

Anxiously looking to Mary Margaret, Emma winced and moved over to the door.

'Calm down,' she inwardly instructed herself. 'He's just going to be here for a few hours - maybe less - and then he'll be gone.'

With a deep breath, Emma opened the door and tried - key word being tried - to appear pleasant.

The moment she opened the door and he appeared in sight must have been too much to bear for the poor sheriff as she stuttered the most awkward polite line for him to enter.

"Um...hi. Won't you come in?" Cringing at her tone (what was she, an archaic princess?), she stepped aside and motioned him forward with a careless sweep of the arm. He greedily accepted her invitation, and, dressed in one of his neat and expensive suits, he limped into the room.

Although normally an alpha female, Mr Gold's sudden presence on her turf made Emma surprisingly beside herself. She blamed it all on the fact that she was feminine and soft in appearance, so she wasn't able to give off her typical "look at me the wrong way again, and I'll bash your face in" aura. Absently rubbing the back of her neck, she shifted about in discomfort. Goddamn those high heels!

It might have escaped her attention, but at least Mary certainly noticed how smartly dressed the man in front of them actually was. The suit he was wearing was one of his finest, the tie gave it all that little bit extra and his hair was done and combed and styled and everything about him said 'rich guy looking sexy and he knows it'.

Mr Gold spun around, surprising both ladies with his swiftness, and leaned on his cane. "Thank you, Miss Blanchard," He turned to Emma, "Emma,"

Each time he said her name it was done with such delicacy that it clearly showed his desire. Emma's gaze snapped upward. With a forced smile to her lips, she nodded once in reply and resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

Then Mr Gold turned to both again, "Thank you for the invitation" a charming smile on his face, "I'm very grateful."

His eyes slid back to Emma and got glued to her form because the dress she was wearing was showing all her curves in an enticing manner. As she fought against her own free will, Emma finally felt his eyes on her and blanched. What in God's name was he looking at? The man bit his lip and tossed his hair over his shoulder before looking straight at her again, then complimented her. "You look gorgeous, Emma."

Cursing her femininity more than ever, Emma crossed her arms over her bosom with the hopes of ending his scrutiny. Sparing her breasts a glance to make sure everything was in place, she then realized that crossing her arms only enhanced the cleavage and quickly dropped her arms at her sides.

With her eyes now directed at the floor, Emma's cheeks burned with a mixture of shame and repulsion at Gold's words. With a begrudging, "Thanks," she held her tongue since she didn't want to embarrass Mary by starting a verbal assault. What she truly wanted to say was something along the lines of, "Go fuck yourself, Mr. Gimp," but that wasn't exactly "fine dining" appropriate language. The bottom line was she did not like attention on herself, she did not like being "dolled up," and she most certainly didn't like Gold being the one to notice her softer side.

Mr Gold suddenly grew very mirthful.

"I had not expected for you to be all dolled up, dear," And though Mr Gold's words left Emma and were directed at Mary in the next few sentences, his eyes and attention were fully on the blonde in front of him - who was probably ready to puke and certainly if she would have seen the thoughts whirling in his mind.

Oh yes, his eyes were still fixed on Emma's bosom. Only now he realized his hungry predator look might scare and disgust her even more, and tried to move his eyes away but could not help the occasional glance that was given to her.

"Miss Blanchard, I brought a bottle of the finest wine I could find. White, sweet, best fitting to the dish you've prepared."

"Do sit down," Mary said with a bright smile. "We can't have you stand there now, can we?" She accepted his sore leg and the condition it brought him, and helped him point a seat. He took it and with a kind smile sat down.

"Thank you, Miss Blanchard."

"O, do call me Mary." Mary said, and waved her hand through the air like waves. "Mr Gold, we're happy to have you with us."

Mr Gold eyed Emma and raised a brow. "Is that so? I'm very blessed to be invited."

Emma could hear Mary Margaret making small talk with Gold, and that naturally enraged her all the more. How could Mary act like it was so effortless to talk to a troll?

Absently twisting a ring on her finger, her eyes darted sharply toward Gold's when she heard his voice. Did he actually expect her to verify Mary Margaret's words? There's no way in hell she'd say, "Why yes, of course we're happy to have you!" She'd rather French kiss a toad.

Instead, Emma moved to have a seat at the far end of the table, but Mary Margaret surprised her by calling, "Oh no, Em, that's my seat... Would you mind?"

Sending Mary Margaret a scathing look - was this some kind of joke? - Emma irritably nodded and moved to sit in the seat beside Mr. Gold. It was a small, intimate table, so the blonde made sure that absolutely no body parts of theirs were touching. It was a bit of an effort, what with her long legs and all, but she made sure that she was considerably further back from the table than necessary.

With a deep breath, Emma forced a smile to her lips and draped her napkin across her lap. "I, uh...thanks for bringing the wine. Mary Margaret may like to think she's high society, but she has absolutely no taste when it comes to the good stuff."

"I heard that!" the teacher trilled, yet she was smiling as she came over with some wine glasses. Ice water was already on the table, but that was far from being what Emma needed at that moment.

Smiling weakly, Emma began to shred at her napkin (an old nervous habit of hers), only to realize that the napkin was cloth. _Dammit_.

"So, Mr. Gold, have any interesting new business venues?" Mary Margaret asked, sitting down and pushing her seat forward. Motioning toward the kitchen, she explained, "Dinner will be ready in about fifteen minutes, so I'm afraid you'll have to put up with our idle chatter first."

Emma mentally screamed, but said nothing. Sensing Mary Margaret's expectant glance, the blonde cleared her throat and added, "Yeah, um...what's it like to have everyone under your thumb 24 7? I've always wondered that... I mean..._OW_!" Wincing from the swift kick Mary Margaret had delivered, Emma coughed and hurriedly amended, "I-I mean, how can you stand it? I'd go absolutely nuts with all those people to keep track of..."

Mary Margaret appeared slightly at ease, but judging by her pinched lips, Emma was far from being off the hook. At this rate, she wouldn't want to leave her and Gold alone.

Which admittedly was a good thing.

With jittery fingers, Emma reached for her water and added, "I'm sorry, I...I tend to get snarky before I eat." Completely missing the glass, she gave a yelp when the ice water spilled onto the table and completely saturated the tablecloth.

Shit, shit, shit!

"Oh God, Mare, I am so, sorry, I..." Trailing off, Emma was about to ask why Mary Margaret was so pale, but that's when she followed her friend's gaze and realized she'd spilt on Gold's blazer, as well.

"Oh..." Straightening her stance, Emma moved as though she might bend over and sop up the mess, but instead she anxiously handed Mr Gold her napkin and exclaimed, "Er...there you go! Sorry about that... If it helps, the "wet rat" look suits you."

So much for a lovely evening.

Mr Gold looked up in shock at both ladies who seemed to have no intention of helping him. His suit, one of the finest he had, was now spoiled with drink and he looked rather upset because of it. "A wet rat." Mr Gold murmured. "More like a drowned one."

Mr Gold hesitated. "Don't worry, I can get this to the dry cleaner."

Emma coughed into her hand and avoided everyone's gaze. Somehow she felt guilty for behaving the way she had, but instead of apologizing, she weakly offered, "It, um...it was just water. It's not like you were wearing silk, right?"

She honestly had no idea what he was wearing, because she hadn't spared him a second glance until that moment. At least, not a look that was lingering enough to drink in his appearance. But now that they were gazing eye-to-eye, she noticed the bitter resentment in his gaze and fell silent.

Mary took the napkin that had been thrown at him by Emma and gently started to dab Mr Gold's suit. The man looked a bit uncomfortable and quickly took the napkin from her to do it himself. At this, Mary turned to Emma and squinted her eyes, moving her head. She was giving clear silent signals that Emma should at least act instead of just standing there. After all she had caused this.

Mary Margaret's disapproval was naturally enough for the blonde to handle, so with a sigh, Emma rose and began to sop up the water from the now empty chair. Bending over and cleaning more vigorously, she somehow felt she didn't have to worry about him sneaking a peek down her dress... At least, not now that she'd put a considerable damper (no pun intended) on their evening.

He placed the napkin aside and allowed for Mary to help him sit down on a different dry chair. He thanked her silently and fixed his eyes on the table again, though all lust and joy had gone from them.

His brown orbs showed nothing but malice and bitter regret for coming. If he had expected forgiveness or tolerance his expectations had been smashed much like the glass that had watered his suit. He noticed how Emma acted around him with such unalloyed annoyance that telling himself everything would be fine seemed like an optimistic step on the stairway to heaven. If she wanted to play this game dirty he would have to cut her out of his master plan.

He placed his hand on the table, his silver ring reflecting the dim light of the table lamp. Mary looked at her hands now, nervously. Her lip trembled as she was clearly contemplating what to say to save the situation for being a downright disaster. "We are happy you've come, though." She finally said, capturing Mr Gold's attention. He slowly turned his head to face her.

"I guess.. What Emma was trying to say, what I was trying to say," Mary's brown eyes found those of Mr Gold and when she saw the mixture of emotions in them she panicked and took up her own napkin, squeezing it in her hand as she mustered all her courage. "We're so grateful you offered to help Emma with the custody and Henry and we wondered why?"

She gave Emma a helpless look. Dinner hadn't even be served yet and already all was spoiled.

The blonde took the wet cloth and hurried with it to the kitchen, leaving the two behind in silence. Mr Gold let out a throaty sigh and pressed his lips tightly shut. His face turned dark and he grimaced. So this was why he had been called over, he thought embittered. His fingers tensed upon the table.

Discarding the cloth into the sink, Emma listened as she heard Mary Margaret ask if Gold would like some music. The man obviously hadn't replied to her question and Mary obviously did her very best to save the situation. With an anxious look in their direction, the blonde heatedly gestured for her friend to come into the kitchen before Mary finally took notice of her wanted attention.

The minute they were out of earshot, Emma hissed, "What the hell are you doing? It's bad enough you've got me dressed to the nineties, but do you have to add music too? Music is _romantic_, and this is _not_ a romantic dinner! What if he wants to dance?"

Mary Margaret had to laugh. "Emma, he has a bum leg! Why would he want to dance, and in front of me, no less? No man with the intentions of wooing wants an audience."

"Gee, I feel so much better," Emma sarcastically returned. Taking a deep breath, she added, "I actually do feel pretty bad for spilling that water on him. I hope he knows I didn't mean to. I mean, c'mon, spilling water on the man might lead him to disrobe, and I most certainly do not want that to happen. Not under our roof."

With a wan smile, Mary Margaret threw her hands up in surrender and ushered Emma back toward the table. "Dinner's ready, Mr. Gold, so I'll be back out in a few minutes. Let me know if you want that music - I have all the classics!"

Standing there awkwardly for a few moments, Emma moved over and had a seat beside Gold once more. Sparing him a fleeting glance, she softly asked, "You, um...you ok? I swear I didn't mean to do that - I mean, I know we've had our ups and downs, but I'm not that cruel." She paused. "Usually."

It was this diversion that she used, hoping Gold would relax before they tried to coax the conversation toward the custody battle at a later time. But despite Emma's generous attempts to divert his attention Mr Gold found himself pondering the subject of the custody that would most surely surface at a later point again. He found it had taken his lust for food away as well as the last bit of joy and kindness he had felt.

And even Emma's well-accentuating dress could not bring back his mood now.

The man placed one hand on top of the other as he his eyes desperately sought their host Mary. But she had vanished into the kitchen and was therefore nowhere in sight, leaving him alone with her of all people, the woman who had carried his child and seemed to have forgotten all about him. Not only that, but she clearly despised him enough to ruin his suit and twirl around the subject she had summoned him about. To think he had dressed up so nicely for her, to impress her. As if it had been a possibility. She must have been well drugged that night he had taken her, nine months before Henry was born and his original plan was enacted.

"Spare me your kindness Miss Swan if it is only to agonize me. The purpose of my visit here is now clear to me and there will not be any kind of music, classical or otherwise, that could convince me there's any form of mutual understanding or respect in this room." His eyes shot sharply to her.

For the first time in Gold's presence, Emma found that she was genuinely speechless. She'd often been told that she wore her heart on her sleeve, but were her intentions really that clear? Could he tell she was repulsed by him and his actions? Perhaps it wasn't the man himself she despised, so much as the way he carried himself. It highly bothered her when people acted as though they were entitled to rule over others.

"I thought that I had acted my part well to offer you my goodwill. But to find myself lured into this house to have my dignity shattered and myself made a fool off is not the way I thought you would repay me. I know, Miss Swan, that it must be very hard to think of a reason why I would want to help you gain back your son. But if you keep this act of violence up, against me, I will not be so kind in future times."

Biting the inside of her cheek, Emma sat on her hands and listened to Gold's curtly delivered speech. Eyes flashing, she calmly insisted, "It wasn't my intention to "shatter your dignity," Mr. Gold - surely you can't deny that you've ruined any chance of my trusting you? Everything you've done for me has been built off deceit , and I can't get Henry back that way. I won't get him back that way." Brushing a lock of her hair back from her face, she insisted, "Corruption may be amusing to you, but I'm not going to play into your games again. I want to trust you - I genuinely do - but give me one good reason why I should."

His hands slipped off the table and he reached for his cane, drawing it between his legs as if ready to get up. Emma frowned and crossed her arms. So, he was going to leave. Fine by her - that meant she couldn't be criticized by Mary Margaret for not quitting, because he was the quitter in this case.

"I think you'll be right again, Miss Swan. Next time I act, I'll act out of pure self-centered reasons." His 'what's-in-it-for-me' attitude had been restored just as his cold and cool demeanor. Though at the point he wanted to get up and leave Mary returned with a big smile and a big bowl of food, and he was urged back on his seat.

"You're not leaving, I hope." Mary said with the kindest smile he had ever seen. It rendered him silent.

Realizing that he'd stopped, Emma followed his gaze toward Mary Margaret and forced a smile. "Sorry, Mary, I...tend to have abhorrent table manners, it seems. He's probably the fourth guest I've scared away in my life."

With a wry smile, Mary Margaret set the bowl of food down on the center of the table and returned, "Well, why does that not surprise me? I'm sure you've been giving poor Mr. Gold an earful." She turned to the man in question. "She loves talking a little too much sometimes."

Trying her best not to roll her eyes, Emma mumbled something about the dinner looking "great" before she spared Gold another glance. She momentarily contemplated on touching his hand to get his attention, but since that was a move she deemed far too intimate for her taste, she opted for a soft, "If you'd rather discuss the custody matter with me and only me, I'll understand. Mary's just looking out for me."

Pretending that she hadn't heard this announcement, Mary Margaret smiled and began doling out portions of the meal.

Mr Gold remained silent as Mary made small piles of food upon his plate. He eyed it with a hungry curiosity and silently had to admit that Mary indeed could cook judging by the scents alone. From the corner of his eye he noticed Emma's hand twitch but she made no move and only stuck to that one whisper.

"Miss Blanchard may stay," Mr Gold voiced loudly, "I've the odd feeling it'd be safer if she did." His brown eyes avoided Emma entirely now. What had he expected of such a foolish girl who differed so many years in wisdom as well as age from him. If she had been worthy of his fullest attention and admiration before she now only received the littlest of his consideration.

"Usually people are after me for my money, and I expect this case won't be any different." His mind had become clouded and dark, and all personal intentions he had shoved aside were now pulled back and placed on a pedestal. He gingerly unfolded his napkin and placed it on his lap, then took up his cutlery and placed the fork and knife to rest on the edges of his plate. He folded his hands and commenced in Mary's prayer which was ended by his husky voice wishing them all a good meal as was thought appropriate. He took up the cutlery again and started eating, his appetite only having returned so-so now that he was convinced whatever deal their child involved he would put himself first and not Emma. If she was incapable of even granting him a chance or a single word of kindness, then she wasn't going to be a proper mum to their son.

Mary's mouth gave a subconscious quirk at Mr. Gold's words, for he was completely right. It probably was safer if she stayed. Emma, on the other hand, was not amused. In fact, she was rather appalled by his assumption that she was only interested in speaking to him because of his money. She had half the mind to curse him out for his impertinence, but Mary Margaret sensed this and kicked her under the table.

"It tastes delicious, Miss Blanchard. Really exquisite cuisine." He complimented Mary, smiling kindly at her and giving her his glances while he avoided moving his head into Emma's direction. The vixen might wear a wildly seductive dress but her mouth did nothing to compliment it.

Yet.

Truly, if Mr Gold had the strength and Mary had been absent, and the whole custody battle of their son wouldn't be in the picture he would have changed a few things about Emma's words towards him. The way she used her mouth would have become much more pleasant. But now there were too many risks and to be plain honest about it Mr Gold had feelings for her that had so far kept him from doing anything cruel to her. He wasn't sure how long his restraint would last until she'd snap that too, but he did not intend to be a villain who committed downgraded crimes such as rape or selfish murder.

Not often anyway.

Everything he'd done so far had been calculated gentleman-like crimes he could get away with and he would benefit of. Having Miss Swan work against him would be a great mistake for he needed her to get his son back.

He folded his hands as he munched on some green vegetables. His brown eyes drifted back to Mary as he watched her eat. The room had become silent.

With a fierce "Will you quit that?" expression, Emma irritably retracted her sore leg and motioned to Mary with her hand. "Wine, please."

"Hmm? Oh, of course... I'm such a terrible hostess sometimes!" Wiping her hands onto her apron, Mary Margaret rose and poured everyone a glass.

Now raising her glassware, Emma smirked and announced, "Here's to not spilling wine on Gold's blazer," then promptly downed it in three gulps.


	7. Birds

**Desperate Souls**

_Chapter 2:_ _Fragmentation_

**Birds**

Mary Margaret shook her head in disapproval. "Oh, Emma...do you have to drink like that?"

"What, like a fish?" She shot back. "Nothing wrong with a little bit of liquid courage...eh, Gold? Since it is your wine, I'm just drinking it because you're rich, right? Because everyone's after you for your money."

Mary Margaret pinched the bridge of her nose. So much for being tongue in cheek.

Pouring herself another glass, Emma ignored Gold's dark gaze and momentarily wondered how she could've ever felt sorry for him. It was true, she'd felt rather guilty after the water fiasco, but now that he was implying she was some sort of financial leech, she was infuriated and sullen.

When Mary Margaret saw her friend reach for the bottle yet again, her hand quickly covered Emma's and she asked, "Don't you think you've had enough?"

"Not by a long-shot," the blonde spat, helping herself to a few more glasses until she finally felt herself growing warm and congenial.

Bending forward with her elbows on the table, Emma gave a wolfish smile and leaned toward Gold in an almost conspiratorial manner. With her voice in a harsh whisper, she announced, "I'm going to find out what makes you tick. I'm gonna find out what you're hiding."

"Emma," Mary Margaret warned, her lips pressing together, "Emma, _please_..."

"No, no, it's alright - I'm just making conversation," she coyly insisted. Now sending Gold another sidelong glance, she added, "I like puzzles... Gimme a clue, wouldja?"

"Emma Swan!"

Looking toward Mary Margaret in bewilderment, she'd sounded _remarkably_ like a mother figure there, Emma began to wring her hands in her lap and swallow. Oh God, the room was spinning. Instead of one miffed Gold, there were three.

"Too many Golds," she murmured, now placing a hand over her eyes. "I'm sorry... What were we talking about?"

"About how grateful we are to our guest for coming," Mary Margaret insisted, her eyes firm as she hoped Emma would take this and run with it.

Emma, however, merely stared at Gold and tried to figure out why he was so silent. He had a beautiful dark-haired beauty to his left, so why wasn't he being more out-going? She never understood why men would look Mary Margaret over. She was by far the prettier one, in Emma's mind.

Mr Gold remained silent as he watched Mary glance at Emma. So far Mary was more interesting to watch than Emma, despite the alluring clothes the blonde was wearing. He had tried to ignore her complains about him but was now fed up and ever so thankful that Mary at least tried to subdue Emma's harsh comments.

"It's of no concern," He suddenly said, sipping from his wine. "I think you've stated it more than enough, Miss Blanchard. And I think it's ever so evident that Miss Swan isn't as pleased as you are. In fact, I think the topic I was called for to discuss here might only be discussable with you, Miss Blanchard." He eyed Mary with a dazzling smile, "As Miss Swan seems to have had a bit too much of a drink."

He placed his glass in front of him and fumbled his pocket for his phone. When he got it out he clicked a button, denying an incoming message from Sidney. He gave a wry smile and put the phone back in his pocket again.

"It might be better for you, Miss Swan, to be put to bed." There was a glint of mischief in his eyes as he remembered when she'd been drugged by him and they'd spent the night in a little hotel, producing Henry. How many times had this memory surfaced by now? It seemed to come to him more and more often as of late, taking up almost entire days and urging him to do it again. Again? Did he just think that? The thought became more accessible and the act less repulsive. It might be the only way for her to regain her memory, he figured silently. He took up his fork to play with it. He needed to stop this thought from distracting him. He had been called her for a certain reason.

"I think Miss Blanchard and I are perfectly capable of discussing matters."

Mary Margaret pursed her lips, then bowed her head as she pretended to dab at her lips with her napkin. She didn't know whom she should tried to appease more - Mr. Gold or Emma - but all she did know was that everything had gotten considerably tense.

Upon hearing Gold's suggestion, Emma's brows drew inward, and her bottom lip protruded like a petulant child's. "Excuse me, but I don't have a bedtime," she snapped, suddenly appearing to be more sobered up. "I haven't had a bedtime since I was...I was...yes!"

Ok, well _maybe not that sober._

Wearily rubbing at her eyes, Mary Margaret softly agreed, "Emma, Mr. Gold actually makes a decent suggestion. You're probably going to get very sick, and I do not want to be the one to baby you when that happens. How many times have I told you not to drink on an empty stomach?"

Emma stared at her in mute surprise. So much for not being the doting type.

Frustrated by the blonde's lack of response, Mary Margaret nodded and agreed, "Yes, I suppose we could. I can assure you we're not angry with you, Mr. Gold. In fact, we're quite grateful. Henry obviously loves and prefers Emma over Regina, so why not help the boy?"

With a wistful smile, Emma propped her chin on her fist and asked, "You really think so? You think Henry prefers me? I always wanted a little boy..."

"Well then I suppose you're in luck," Mary Margaret returned, smiling wryly since she never knew what she would say next. Returning her attention to Gold, she asked, "What would we have to do? We're willing to go through with just about anything, from what I can tell. Right, Emma?"

The blonde gave a nod that caused her to slide a little to the right, her face filled with an almost child-like hope as she asked, "You'll really help me get my boy back, Mr. Gold? Like..._really_? I'll be able to hold him in my arms?"

Mary Margaret smiled sadly. "Emma, you do know he's not a baby, right?"

"So?" she shot back. "He'll always be _my_ baby."

Embarrassed since she felt as though Emma wasn't intending to be so personable, Mary Margaret cleared her throat and nodded. "Right...yes, he most certainly will be."

There was a small smile on Mr Gold's face at Emma's mentioning of Henry to always be her baby for in a way that was exactly how Mr Gold felt of their son too. And how Mary tried to calm her and keep the situation well between the two was remarkable.

"Then again," He suddenly chimed in, "the boy is growing and if we can't find an appropriate way to trick the boy's current mother he'll be an adult and the whole custody issue will not matter anymore."

Mary Margaret frowned, then assured Gold, "Well we won't let that happen. Henry's only ten, so to allow Regina to keep him for eight more years seems insufferable. I'll admit I usually like to try and mind my own business, but in this case? I think the poor kid deserves a fighting chance at happiness."

He wiped his lips with the napkin, placed it aside and rose from his chair. "We can sit and talk or walk and act." He smiled down at the clearly wine-suffering Emma and a glint of recognition passed his eyes. He was caught up in the past again.

Watching Gold rise, Emma nearly wilted from the dizziness it caused just from following his movements. With a frown, she asked, "Well why would we walk and act? Can't you act sitting down, too?"

"I don't think any talk will be fruitful today. If you'd excuse me I'd rather go home now." He gave Mary an apologetic look, knowing how impolite he was to skip pudding. The last of the meal usually was the best but he didn't want to risk Emma drinking herself into the hospital and into the arms of the perverted Dr Whale.

Mary Margaret hushed Emma, for she'd begun to speak over top of Gold - not that this was anything out of the ordinary. Returning her attention to their guest, she frowned and asked, "What, so soon? I really hope you're not upset with us, Mr. Gold. I promise Emma didn't mean anything by it. She means well, but sometimes her love for Henry gets her into trouble."

"Why are you talking about me? I'm right here!" Emma whined, only to scowl as she rose on wobbly legs. It wasn't the smartest choice in the world to wear high heels to dinner, but she decided she'd done more idiotic things in the past. Watching Gold leave, she demanded, "Wait, where are you going? Will we talk about Henry again soon?"

Mary tried to comfort her. "Emma, honey, relax. He said we'll talk at a later time."

Only mildly appeased, the blonde moved to take a step to her right, but miscalculated and collided headlong with the hardwood floor.

"Oh, goodness! Emma, are you alright?" Mary Margaret pressed, now scuttling over to her friend like a frantic mother hen. Helping the blonde up into a sitting position, she began to dust off Emma's dress before heaving her up to her feet. "There, now, do you think you can walk?"

"'A course I can...I'm not an invalid!" Emma raved, now wresting herself free of Mary's supporting arm. Sending her muddled vision over toward Gold, she squinted and realized he was returning her gaze. Although she was considerably warm from the alcohol consumption, she felt a distinct, and inexplicable chill bloom throughout her veins until she was forced to look away. It was almost akin to some sort of hypnosis, and at the moment she found it far safer to look at the floor.

"Emma, say goodnight to our guest," Mary Margaret ushered.

Good God, she really was like a mother hen.

Rather irritated with being coddled, Emma sourly pushed past her friend and found herself standing in front of Gold. She noticed he was gripping his cane rather tightly, and the odd notion that he might strike her with it suddenly came to mind. It was honestly hard to tell how he was feeling, and that was what unnerved her the most.

"Well...g'night," she returned, giving him a half-hearted, two-fingered salute. "Please talk with me about Henry later, ok, please?"

"Emma..." Mary Margaret began, a tone of warning in her voice. "Emma, I think that's enough."

Now gripping at Gold's wrist, Emma ignored her friend and sustained, "Please, please, don't forget, ok? I need him, and I'd like to think he needs me too."

The connection of flesh against flesh had made Mr Gold aware of the suppressed feelings. His anger and hatred toward her for her constant denial of his offered help faded and not just because she was in a way finally pleading him for something, but also because the small electricity at her touch reminded him of that faithful night that led to Henry, again. The memories kept haunting him, emerging more and more often when he was around her and almost willing him to have it all done again, to actually relive their intimate moment. Was he attracted to her still?

With a sigh, Mary Margaret came up from behind and pried the blonde away from their guest. "I'm so sorry," Mary apologized, yet smiled weakly with a small nod. "I hope you have a lovely rest of your evening, Mr. Gold, and I really am sorry for how things turned out."

A deep frowned took possession of his face and, relieved that Mary had dragged her roommate away from him so he could clear his mind, gave a nod to indicate he was leaving.

"I regret it too." He said, then stumbled his way out of the apartment. With the door closing behind him he let his shoulder sag and let out a dreary sigh. His hopes had been shattered and his dreams rekindled. Of all things Mr Gold had thought he could live without a heart and that any form of affection had left him. He knew he was wrong when he had seen Henry grow up so near to him, yet unreachable. But Emma made his feelings more complex for he thought she could never love him and he would never love her.

If this was so, why did he put on his best suit and go over for dinner? If so why was he upset by her constant rejecting him and denial of his offered help? If this was so, then why did he try to be kind without asking things in return for it. Was he merely selfish as he had thought in wanting a family, and did he think he could have it with Emma and their son. But that family had been broken long ago, and the boy didn't even like him. If he would to find out Mr Gold was his true father would he be able to handle it? The boy deserved a hero.

Mr Gold had reached the empty street and took a deep breath of the cool night's air. He closed his eyes and thought how ironical it was that he felt as if he was fighting back tears. He hadn't cried for ages. It was sad that both his targets of obsession didn't seem to remember him as part of their live. Emma especially, had done nothing but rudely scold him since the day she arrived and saw him. She believed the words of others too easily, he figured. It had been what he wanted, the status of most dangerous and powerful man in town. But to have Emma shun him he realized now was not what he had wished for at all. Perhaps when he'd been younger and when he had thought he wouldn't care about her ever. Things were different now and he regretted the wicked games he played.

With his cane in his hand he made his way homeward. The tapping echoing through the deserted alleys and the darkness surrounding him.

* * *

><p>The following morning the elderly man was roused by the sound of birds chirping next to his window. The tree that blocked half of his view had become the residence of two cheerful birds and their nest of youngsters, and was a painful reminder to the secret hidden wishes Mr Gold kept himself. He closed the window and made his way down the stairs to enjoy a simple cup of coffee.<p>

Not one small bite of food would want to pass his throat and head to his stomach that morning, so he showered instead and after dressing and grooming his hair he took a lunch box under his arm and headed for the shop.

Once he had arrived in his trusted pawnshop he set to work by groggily writing out new contracts and forms. As his stomach had started churning he found himself nibbling a rusk with nothing on it, just dry and unpleasant as people considered him to be. His brown eyes were fixed on the paper as his lust for anything in this world had temporarily disappeared after last night's disastrous dinner and this morning's teasing of the happy birds.


	8. Fuss

**AU: **Okay, so I got fed up with the pace I was uploading this. The story processes real slowly, because it is a role play, and the many errors and repeats are because of this as well. Sometimes we copy each other's actions in our reply to clarify what part we are replying to and sometimes it doesn't make much sense Dx I'm currently trying to make this story run smooth, but for now this will have to do. I deleted all the odd symbols, hopefully, from this chapter and the previous, and will make a speedy update on this one because in our rp Gold, Emma _and_ Henry are on the move. Granted, they are on the move for weeks now, but the story as it is here isn't nearly as far as that, so I want to share that part of our rp with those who are interested or just plainly bored, and therefore will do an upload of several chapters and parts. To the ones who commented about Emma's behavior, I can't control that, I'm afraid. I (the one writing this note and doing the uploading) am merely the Gold part :) But still hope you enjoy! Mature content is ahead! As well as some non-con.

**Desperate Souls**

_Chapter 2:_ _Fragmentation_

**Fuss**

After Gold had departed, Mary Margaret fussed over Emma and ushered her into her bedroom. Helping her to lie down on her bed, Mary fluffed a few pillows before setting the blonde's dizzy head upon them. "There," she cooed, smiling as she sat up straight. "Feeling any better? I think you certainly knocked poor Mr. Gold for a loop. I doubt he can make heads or tails of you."

"I can't make heads or tails of anything right now," Emma muttered, placing a hand over her eyes as if to block out the throbbing in her temples. "I wasn't trying to be mean...I think. Hell, I can't remember."

Mary Margaret patted her thigh. "That's alright, everything will be fine again in the morning... Just make sure you apologize to Mr. Gold when you see him, alright? I think you owe him that much."

Emma snorted, but gave a begrudging nod. She probably wouldn't remember by morning anyway, so her agreement was noncommittal, at best.

* * *

><p>But alas, Mary Margaret had made sure to remind Emma about her apology the next day.<p>

With a sour look on her face, Emma had resisted telling her closest friend off, and had instead muttered a terse, "Fine," before heading out to her car. Her squad vehicle was still in the shop, so any hope of intimidation was now null and void.

Exiting the car with a heavy sigh, she practically stomped towards Gold's pawnshop since she was A) extremely irritable, and B ) in serious need of an aspirin. Mary Margaret had rushed her out of the apartment, so she'd forgotten to take a double dose.

When Emma entered the shop, Gold appeared to be hard at work. Normally he was standing around as though he were expecting her arrival, but this time around he was transfixed in whatever papers he was currently perusing.

"Gold?" she called, even though she was almost positive he'd heard her come in. "I, uh...you busy?"

Approaching him with slow, reluctant steps, she found herself standing over him as she tried to peer at the papers. It probably wasn't anything interesting, but a big part of her hoped it had something to do with getting custody of Henry.

Since Gold wasn't being very talkative, Emma took it upon herself to keep the (one-sided) conversation going. Shoving her hands into her pockets, she shifted her gaze toward the ceiling and mumbled, "I, uh...I guess I owe you an apology for last night. I honestly don't remember much, but Mary Margaret said I was a total you-know-what."

The crumbs of the rusk had fallen to cover the document on the counter and he gingerly brushed them away with the back of his hands. Only now that she had apologized his eyes darted up to her face and he put the rusk aside, having very little appetite, and placed it next to the pile of papers.

"Really, Emma? I hadn't thought you the kind to go back on her mistakes. However, I will take your apology and accept it."

He hobbled from one side of the counter to the next and took a pencil with which he eagerly started to draw lines on a new piece of paper. His attention was once again lifted from her person, as if she did not interest him at all after yesterday's encounter. Nothing was more true, though he still admired her beauty he just couldn't get himself to bestow her with his attention. She had to feel his wrath if he ever hoped she would change her demeanor around him.

As he scribbled down some sums, he came to lean on the counter with his elbows, and listened to Emma's footsteps as she walked from side to side, pacing in front of the counter. He had to suppress a small smirk for his ignoring seemed to make her restless, an effect he desired.

Emma's brows furrowed in frustration. Just who the hell did he think he was? It had been difficult enough to actually apologize , but now he felt the need to deem her a non-apologetic person?

With a chilled sneer, she crisply returned, "Well, what can I say? I've been known to do odder things than say I'm sorry..." Watching him limp to the other side of the counter, she waited for him to add a snide remark, but found he was more interested in whatever he'd been working on.

Okay, what the hell had she done last night? Or did he just wake up on the wrong side of the bed?

Regardless of the true reason, Emma was beginning to grow impatient. It's not like she'd been obligated to apologize, so now that he was dismissing her - despite claiming to have accepted it- she couldn't help but feel her frustration mount. And when Emma was frustrated, she paced.

Sneakers treading back and forth, she still kept her hands in her pockets as she moved, her eyes every once in a while cutting toward Gold to see if he was paying attention.

Irritated by his apathy, Emma finally snapped, "Ok, you know what? I didn't have to come over here, so why don't you do your job and act like I'm a customer? Because in case you've forgotten, people actually like to be acknowledged . Otherwise? They get pissed off."

Now mirroring his pose, she placed her hands on the counter and glared at him. There was always a lingering smirk on Gold's lips, and Emma longed to smack it right off his self-satisfied face.

With an intake of breath, she added, "I think you know why I'm here... You promised me you'd help. Or at least, that's what I remember happening last night."

Good God, the man was a disaster. He led her to drinking, and if this habit kept up, she wouldn't be able to recall where she placed her keys each night.

Mr Gold's eyes cut back at her sharply. His lips curled into a snarl at the sight of her mirroring his movements. For a moment he wondered if she would imitate his snarl too but the look of frustration showed she was already too far down the hill to pass the joyful tree of merry snarls. He let out a sigh and clicked his tongue, discarding the paper and pencil from his hand.

He leaned on the counter, inching himself closer to her, and gave her a pensive look. "Emma, I would talk to you if you would allow me. And yesterday you gave me no such chance. You made it perfectly clear that you have no need for me," he entirely ignored the last episode of their dinner meeting where she had clutched to him and begged him to be her benefactor, to offer her his help and support, "and each time you are around me it gets your blood flowing. I don't like to see you like this." He gave her a painful expression.

"You keep treating and addressing me like I'm a monster, a beast. But question yourself in all due honesty; would a beast offer you his help? Would a monster try his best to suit you? Would he dress himself at his finest and come over for a meal to discuss your interests while abandoning his own? "

It wasn't fully true. His interest was their child, the same as hers. He wasn't acting selflessly, he was acting selfishly. With another sigh he traced a hand through his hair.

When Gold inched forward, Emma subconsciously inched back, her fingers gripping the edge of the counter until her knuckles turned bone white. There was something about his aura that automatically made her on the defensive, and she erected every wall she possibly could to keep him from reading into her thoughts.

Gold, she realized, was the one person in Storybrooke that continuously kept her on her toes. Granted, Regina was a close second to holding that honor, but she didn't perceive her as an immediate threat. Gold was just... unnerving , to say the least, because she never knew what would come out of his mouth. The words he uttered next were a prime example of this, and Emma found her jaw clenching as she tried to process everything she was hearing.

"You don't know how I truly am," she finally spoke, yet her words were far more hushed than she wished to convey. She wanted to be firm in her beliefs - sincere - but it all came tumbling out like an uncertain little girl's words.

Considerably upset by what she was hearing, Emma shook her head and insisted, "You can't expect me to behave differently, can you? You broke my trust , Gold, and I'm sorry, but it takes a hell of a lot more than being nice to regain it." With a sharp intake of breath, she then addressed his question: "And why would a beast offer his help, you ask? Probably so he can override all doubt and abuse the trust he'd already broken. But then, I'm a cynic...I don't mind admitting that. There have been many "beasts" in my life, Gold, so you're by far not the first, and something tells me you definitely won't be the last."

"Come to me when you feel you can speak to me. Not like this," Mr Gold genuinely looked concerned at her for her troubles, "Not like enemies."

Appearing affronted, Emma felt her chance with Henry slipping through her grasp like an oiled ribbon. Amidst her desperation, she placed a hand over his papers and forced him to return her gaze, her head shaking as she softly insisted, "I can't come back at a later time, Gold, because we may always be this way around each other...I can't help that you bring something shameful out of me, alright? I just...I just know that you're the only one who can help me, and time is of the essence. If I were to wait until I was ready, Henry would be well beyond salvaging..." Bowing her head, she softly added, "I know it's hard, but try looking at it from a parent's point of view... I'm bitter and cruel because it's my best defense mechanism, but now that I've met Henry, I'm finally feeling warm and loved. I can't go back to the way I once was...I won't go back, and the way I see it, I'm going to do this with or without you."

"And what do you think made me cruel?"

The words had been spit back at her like a low growl and before he had any grip on them. They flew from him, left his body before they could even pass his mind. His eyes grew wide as he realized just how much he was giving away. The gesture with his left hand had said enough about the bottle frustrations the man suffered from.

The stoniness in Emma's eyes seemed to leave at his words, but she didn't back away or cringe like her body secretly desired. She was honestly surprised that Gold had admitted to being cruel - he'd just built his case on being anything but , after all - but Emma found that she could neither verify or deny his statement.

It wasn't an unknown fact in her mind that she knew absolutely nothing about him, but until this very moment, she honestly hadn't given Mr. Gold's past life much thought. Perhaps he knew more about her way of life than his own standard of living conveyed? Gold, after all, wasn't a man she'd peg as being familiar with cruelty or hard times... He was well-poisoned, self-assured, eloquent, and rich. It wasn't exactly a common recipe for a harsh life.

Mr Gold recollected his thoughts. He knew he could apologize for his outburst but it wasn't nearly as bad as the fir of rages he could have when he was truly mad. How she managed to put a restrain on him while no one by far had been so rude was a mystery to him.

As Emma stood there, she found herself waiting for Gold to elaborate on his crisp admonition, but when nothing came to be, she unfolded her arms and studied his face. He appeared rather beside himself (a rarity all on its own), and Emma was half-tempted to apologize yet again.

In her past life, when with an angry acquaintance, she was often able to make the joke, "Well, someone needs a hug!", but in Gold's case it was an entirely different animal to deal with. She knew that no jocularity, apologies, or soft words would cure his sudden streak of anger, because she'd seen that look on her own face one too many times. She never thought she'd be comparing herself to this man, but she could sense her own kind from over a mile away...the kind that bottled everything up inside and pretended all was well until pushed.

Before Emma could even think to speak, Gold was already turning his back to her and stumbling off toward the back room. She was about to give an urgent, "Wait!", but he beat her to the quick when he halted his movements. His shoulders were slumped in what appeared to be defeat, and his next words almost made her believe she hadn't heard correctly

"Alright. We'll talk."

"Really?" Emma asked, a sudden surge of relief shooting through her veins. "Thank you. Really, I mean it. I know you're probably sick to death of me, but I promise that once this is all over and done with, I'll never bug you again. You have my word on that."

The thought of never having to deal with Gold again almost seemed surreal, but Emma always had hope. With a slight smirk on her face, she followed Gold toward the back room and was relieved to find it didn't reek of lanolin.

"Okay," she began, now looks around her, "how are we going to do this? And I mean legally do in case you don't remember, I'm not too keen on under-handed operations. I want to win Henry back the proper way, or else I'll never forgive myself."

_'And more importantly, he may never forgive me,'_ Emma mentally added.


	9. Drinks

**Desperate Souls**

_Chapter 2:_ _Fragmentation_

**Drinks**

Mr Gold could very well understand her worry here for he too would be bothered by the way his child would view him by any of the more doubtful or less legal actions they could partake. But then again, the situation was different for him. People already viewed him with fear, all except Emma. His son most likely already despised him. If he had to win by foul means he would, for his son couldn't think possibly less of him. He was no angel, he was more like the devil and so he had been for the past thirty years of his life or so. And old devil, but still youthfully quick and blessed with unbeatable skills and wit.

He gestured for her to take a seat, then placed himself at the other side. The coffee machine behind him rattled, ready to make a cup if needed. "You want some?" He asked her, ready to hand her a cup before he took one himself. He finally sat down and nipped his drink. His brown eyes were now like pitch-black pools, feasting on her. Her radiance and beauty nagged for his attention like it had done so many times before and Mr Gold found himself slightly distraught by it.

Emma denied the coffee when it was offered - she'd always been more of a hot chocolate girl, but she wasn't about to ask Gold if he had something else. Her eyes followed him as he had a seat, and she positioned herself in her trademark stance as she stood in front of him.

Mr Gold had to tear his eyes away from her and quickly hid his actions behind a cough. The cup of coffee was set in front of him but not let go off as he turned to look at her again with a sweep of the hair when he looked up. The supercilious smirk he carried around on his face almost constantly had faded a while ago and surprisingly not returned yet. Not even when he held her here in his devil's hole, in his territory. He could so easily consume her with his darkness. If he were to overpower her here in his back room there would be no one to hear her cries, no one to come to her rescue.

A massively pounding headache started to emerge and he felt like rubbing his temples. But instead of doing so he remained seated as he was, trying his best to ignore the dull throbbing that increased. There was no need to think of crimes when they had agreed to play strictly legally.

"Start, Emma. What is your plan? What would you want to expect of me or would you rather not see? I've listed, mentally, the legal way and I agree with you." He raised a brow. "Of course, we would not want for Henry to think bad of you. You should be a heroine, a figure he can relate to, adore and idolize." His voice sounded husky but optimistic. "How any mother should be." He added.

His hand moved on the cup, but that was all.

For once Emma felt giddy, so she was completely unaware of the dark musings in Gold's head. All she could truly think about was the possibility of actually having a family – a legit family – and it was almost too much for her to process. It was a glorious thought, yes, but she was overwhelmed by the idea in itself.

With a soft smile on her lips, she finally came back to reality when she heard Gold's words. Cocking her head slightly, Emma's smile gradually dissipated as she thought of how to properly answer him. "Well, I…I'll admit I've never done anything like this before, but I'm pretty familiar with how the system works. Maybe not the legal aspects of it, but I know for a fact that I'll have to prove I'm the better parent. I can't just swoop in and expect to get Henry because he's mine by blood." Chewing on her lip, she lowly added, "I know that you helped Regina to get my son, so I guess I just expect you to do what you did for her. You seem like an expert in overriding certain legal issues, so that's why I'm turning to you…despite my better judgement." Emma ignored Gold's additive speech about heroines, because it honestly unnerved her. It was almost as if he knew about her conversation with Mary Margaret…

"But before I help you there are some terms you will agree to. I'm tired of talking our way around things. I'm tired of your, understandable, jabbering towards me and your accusations. From now on you will try to behave like a lady around me." He spoke to her in an all of a sudden fatherly tone and pointed a digit at her, that it would be hard for her to protest. Perhaps it was the authority he always carried around by age and by position that made him sound like so. But he knew how to use it.

With her hands on her hips, the blonde came to the realization that Gold was speaking again, and quite firmly. It wasn't his usual sly banter, which naturally caused Emma to listen out of shock more so than respect. Mouth agape, she allowed her arms to drop at her sides as she fought for a snappy comeback. When none arrived to her rescue, she gave a sullen nod and re-folded her arms. It was the only stance that allowed her to feel superior and self-preservative, so she used it whenever she wanted to show she was still in control of herself…even if it was far from the truth.

Probably the thing that annoyed Emma the most was the whole "lady" comment, because she'd been hearing that all her life.

"Emma, act like a lady! Emma, ladies don't speak that way in public… Emma, would a lady go out with ten boys to a club? Emma, Emma, Emma !"

Unaware that her upper lip had curled in disdain, Emma took a deep breath and nodded. "Very, well, I'll be a "lady"… Although if you don't mind, I'll be determining what does and doesn't makes a lady, because I'm tired of being told the "proper" way to behave. I mean, I hope you're not expecting flouncy skirts and classy soirees out of this little agreement." One of her foster moms, after all, had been exactly what she'd just described…a true southern belle.

Ashamed that she'd allowed her poor experiences to get the best of her, Emma momentarily closed her eyes, then re-opened them as she muttered, "Sorry, I'll just…yeah, fine, whatever. I won't accuse you unless I catch you in the act… Sound fair enough? I can be accommodating when it's absolutely necessary."

In all honesty, what garnered Emma's cooperation the most was the fact Gold had admitted she was right to be accusative. If he'd completely dismissed his own faults, she would've more than likely gone straight for the jugular. Now turning so she could lean against a beam on the wall, Emma absently scuffed her shoe against the floor and softly added, "Now I know you've told me various answers before, but seriously, why are you so willing to help me? Especially since I've been a total bitch to you – believe me, I can admit that – so help me understand. Maybe then I'd actually be willing to listen and let you in, because I don't trust outside sources who don't give a full explanation. I just…I just can't. I've been that way all my life, and it's not exactly something I'm proud of, but certain experiences make people more street smart than others." Eyes now locking with Gold's, Emma persisted, "Were you once in a similar situation? I've found I'm more willing to help if I can relate to someone's plight…"

Mr Gold's dark eyes almost closed and he took a deep breath. Her rage had subsided, for now, and he was thankful that instead of scolding him she was now able to speak to him like adults were supposed to. He placed his hand on the table, the coffee cup left alone and at the side of him.

"Emma," He started, knowing that she probably despised the sound of her own name from his lips but to him it was a delicious taste that rolled off his tongue. Her name was like a drug, and always had been. "before I answer that question might I offer you something else to drink?" He had noticed the way she had refused a cup of coffee and was now slouching against the walls of his back room. Besides, it seemed to him to be a perfect distraction to give him some time to formulate his own words. Lying wasn't an option and to him never had been. He simply wasn't the type for it. And keeping silent when Emma so explicitly asked him to give her details was as much of a crime with the knowledge he possessed. There were two ways this could go, he thought sardonically to himself. Either his part of the story would make her accept him in her life or it would end any hopes he held for a future with his son. He took a big gulp of his own drink and discarded the empty cup.

The machine in front of him gave him the opportunity to make a new cup of coffee, but instead he decided to make a hot cocoa for the 'lady' first. He handed it to Emma. "Here you go," and then turned back to reach for a new cup but changed his mind. Something stronger would have to do. He didn't need the energy as much as he needed the courage and the strength to accept her rejection, and thus he reached for his flask of scotch and nipped from it before he sat himself down.

Emma was about to decline Gold's offer yet again, but when she held out her hand in refusal, she was momentarily stunned when she realized he'd placed a cup of hot chocolate between her fingers. "I...thank you," she stammered, still a little bewildered as she blew at the steam.

Although she and Gold were finally getting along (for now), she hated to admit that it felt more awkward being amiable than being at each other's throats. At least when she was angry, she had an excuse for her behavior. But when neither were talking, and both were being relatively pleasant to one another, she felt vulnerable and uneasy in the pawnbroker's presence.

Sipping at her hot cocoa, Emma's eyes followed Gold's movements and narrowed when he withdrew the flask. She had half the mind to ask him what he thought he was doing, but she then decided it was none of her business. Everyone in Storybrooke had skeletons in their closet, but somehow it seemed "off" for Gold's to be alcoholism. Perhaps she expected something more glamorous?

He gestured again, not happy with Emma's position against the wall, and making it clear by silent motions alone that she'd better sit down despite not being the type for it. He held his flask in front of him, elbows leaning on the table, and a wry smile wrinkled his face as he looked straight at her.

Startled when Gold motioned for her to have a seat, Emma felt half guilty for staring (it was almost as though she'd witnessed something private and not meant for her eyes). Hovering over an antique chair, she gave it a distrustful glance before hesitantly easing herself down against the seat. Pleased when it didn't give out from underneath her, Emma crossed her legs and placed her cup in her lap, wincing slightly when Gold took another sip.

After the much needed liquid courage, he began to speak. Although Emma tried to remain unreadable in her expressions, she'd be lying if she said she wasn't interested in what was coming out of Gold's mouth. All this time he'd remained a damnable enigma to her, so to think he was finally explaining his past rather enticed her. Maybe he'd let something slip, and she could use it in case he tried to double-cross her?

"Yes, to answer burning questions you've asked me now and blamed me of the past. You were quite right when you assumed I have no family, for in a sense it is perfectly true. I am a man with no wife, no parents alive, and a child deceased." His face contorted, showing a grim look that would fit on a cemetery. His whole posture changed from confident businessman to a repenting father. "I have nobody to wait for me at home, but that doesn't mean I don't know the value of a family, Emma. I once fought for mine, and I will do so again. I failed, I was no hero. Which makes it of even more importance to me that you should be one to the child. It is what I had wished for myself to be, but which I could not achieve. Instead I became a monster." He pinched his brow, rubbing his forehead as if his migraine had returned, and took another gulp of his scotch. The vision he now reflected was that of a man in agonizing pain at the memories of a life long since lost. He closed his eyes in regret and remorse and his voice, though still low and humming, carried a coarse edge due to his suppressed emotions.

"You asked me if I was once in a similar situation, Emma. I am in one right now."

As Emma listened, however, she gradually found herself less and less inclined to even think of blackmail. Her lips subconsciously pinched together, and her fingers gripped her cup as Gold spoke of his dead son. The very thought of losing Henry made her chin quiver, her gaze softening as she watched the pawnbroker's stance wilt into that of dejection.

Despite not thinking too much of Gold, Emma had always been the type to reach out and feel for the underdog. Gold wasn't exactly what she considered an underdog, but he currently looked as though he were being kicked in the ribs, and quite frankly, she could relate to that.

Placing her cup off to the side, Emma tried to mask the sadness in her eyes as she swallowed a lump in her throat. It'd be ridiculous of her to cry in front of this man – especially since she had no reason to do so – but something about his words were making her miserable.

Wincing when Gold insisted she should be the hero he never was, Emma jerked her eyes up to meet with his and swallowed. What if she couldn't be there for Henry? She'd failed him all his life, so it was a miracle he even loved her…

Lowering her gaze, Emma folded her hands in her lap and shook her head. Before she could even think to speak, however, she realized Gold was drinking again, and this time she couldn't stay silent. "Hey," she interjected, almost appearing stern, "don't you think you should take it easy on that stuff? I may not know what you're drinking, but I'm pretty sure it isn't coffee…" Gaze softening, she added, "I used to drink, too… Well…I still do when I'm feeling exceptionally lousy, but in the long run, I know it won't help. Do you really think your son would want you to drink on his behalf? 'cause I'm pretty sure he'd want you to live your life..."

Embarrassed that she'd just made an extremely hypocritical rant about drinking, Emma shook her head and muttered, "I'm sorry, I just…it makes me want to revert to old habits when I see people use alcohol as a crutch. Just ignore me…"

Absently rubbing at her thighs (a habit she often did when nervous and cornered), Emma looked up again when Gold made a rather astonishing admonition. "You mean…you have another son?"

Bewildered by this news, she glanced off to the side and tried to make sense of what she was hearing. He admitted to having no wife, so that would mean he'd met someone along the way, and that they'd accidentally created a little bundle of joy.

'Sounds familiar,' she thought bitterly.

Noticing Gold moving for his flask again, Emma irritably rose and closed the distance between them in a matter of steps. With her hand now forcing Gold's wrist against the table, she narrowed her eyes and gruffly commanded, "Cut that out, would you? If I end up finding you dead from alcohol poisoning later this evening, I will not be a happy Sheriff."

Suddenly embarrassed by her reaction, Emma released his wrist and took an awkward step back. She still didn't quite understand his explanation, but at least now she could at least find an ounce of respect for him.

Mr Gold looked up at her with confusion written in his eyes. When she had grabbed his wrist he had dared to swear she'd figured out the truth, but when he saw her startled gaze back at him he knew she probably hadn't. She had just tried to keep him from drinking himself under the table. He let out a low moan and rubbed his thigh.

"I'm toughened by the years," he excused himself. "I can stand a little alcohol. And this is scotch." He said, pointing at the flask with his free hand. He now finally rose from his seat and with help of his trusted cane brushed past Emma and limped to the shop front.

By the Gods he needed a drink, or something else to ease his nerves before he'd lose it all. His control, for instance, he could feel slipping away. Whether it was by her ignorance or by the anger that she knew nothing about him at all didn't matter. Both aspects irritated him right now as he felt his violent urges emerge. He was brooding, mind clouding with evil thoughts as realization dawned upon him.

Emma nodded once at Gold's admonition, for she knew scotch was a nice little pick-me-up in its own right. She'd spent many a day in the backseat of a car with said drink, and it honestly depended on her mood as to whether or not she was accompanied by a boyfriend. Shaking the thought from her mind, she realized with slight irritation that Gold was hobbling toward the front of the shop. "You know, you'd make this so much easier on us both if you'd stop running away from me," she muttered, following after him with her arms crossed. "It's kind of hard to carry on a conversation with someone's backside..."

Mr Gold stood in the front of his shop, shoulders shaking, as he tried to compose himself. With a deep sigh he found his inner rest, for now, and his voice. "Drinking will do neither of us good." He said, a plan forming in his mind.

"But yet I would like to invite you over for a drink in my house, tonight. A drink and something to eat. See it as a way to make up for our failed attempt yesterday. I'll prepare us dinner, and we discuss the way to gain back Henry." He genuinely looked compassionate as he spoke to her, turning half-way to face her and smiling charmingly. "I think we'll be making much more process now that the hostility between us is gone and we have a little more understanding. How about 6?"

When Gold had finally stopped moving, Emma stuffed her hands into her pockets and rounded about so that she was facing him once more. Her eyes were stern, but they widened in surprise upon his invitation. "I...what?" she choked out, unsure if she'd heard him correctly. The idea of being alone with the man in his own home was... unnerving , somehow. It wasn't that she didn't trust him - ok, so that was a bold-faced lie - but the thought of being on someone else's turf made her anxious. At least yesterday evening she had the comfort of her own home to fall back on.

Realizing that Gold was still waiting for her answer, Emma assured herself that an evening with Storybrooke's dealer was worth having her son back. In fact, just about anything was worth getting back Henry.

Gold's warm smile looked odd on him somehow, but Emma found herself agreeing in spite of her reservations. Hands on her hips, she nodded once and returned, "Yeah, sure, alright...I won't be on duty this evening, as far as I know." Hearing his little comment about their "lack of hostility," Emma smirked and agreed, "Maybe so, but just know this, Gold: if you fuck with me, I'll fuck right back."

Coming to the realization that she'd worded that quite horrendously, Emma felt her cheeks flush and she coughed. "Er, uh...you get the idea. Just don't double-cross me, because I won't be nice twice - I'm trusting you on this."

With one last stern glance in Gold's direction, Emma turned around and immediately appeared lost and anxious. As she exited his shop, she released a breath she wasn't aware of holding and shivered.


	10. Glum Goria

**Desperate Souls**

_Chapter 3:_ _Disintegration_

**Glum Gloria**

"You're kidding..."

"Nope," Emma glumly returned, "I'm sure not. Gold actually invited me over to his house, but I just realized I don't know where he lives..."

Mary Margaret stifled a giggle, then cleared her throat when the blonde glared at her. "I'm sorry, it's just... wow . He must've really done a number on you if you forgot to ask something important like that. I'll go look it up in the directory for you."

Hopping off her stool, the teacher approached a desk and pulled out a drawer containing several books. Now flipping through a phone book, she casually asked, "So are you going to need one of my dresses, again?"

Emma groaned. "Seriously, Mare? C'mon, I don't think I could stand dressing up two days in a row... I mean, what do I look like, a street walker?"

"And just what are you trying to say about my dresses?"

"Nothing, I just...it's not me, ok?" Sourly watching her search, Emma irritably muttered, "Ok, fine, I'll wear that stupid red thing you showed me the other day. I happen to like red, and for the sake of my own sanity, I'll just pretend it's a pantsuit."

Mary Margaret grinned. "See that? I admire your ability to make even the worst scenario a bright one, Emma." With a pleased, "Ah-ha!", she gleefully added, "Found it!"

Now rushing back over to the kitchen counter, she grabbed a notepad and began to scribble down the address. "It's quite the place, so I've heard... I've never actually been there myself, so consider yourself a privileged woman."

"Gee, I can barely contain my excitement," Emma sarcastically grumbled. "I mean, how can you be so sure he isn't some weird, twisted axe murderer? If I don't come back before dawn, send out a search party to come find my body."

Mary Margaret laughed. "Oh Emma, you are ridiculous! It's a miracle the poor man opened up to you at all, considering your last encounter."

Emma's eyes softened, then she shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know... I guess we were able to put our differences aside for the sake of Henry." Recollections of Gold's story made her heart ache, so she honestly preferred not to talk about it. If she ever lost Henry the way he'd lost his son, she didn't know what she'd do...

"So when do you have to leave, Miss Glum Gloria?"

"Six," Emma mumbled, propping her chin on her fist with a sigh.

"Um...it's 5:30. Shouldn't you be getting ready? I know everything's close by in this town, but somehow Gold doesn't strike me as the type to enjoy a guest being "fashionably late"..."

"Yeah, I guess," Emma agreed, sighing as she hopped off her stool. "Direct me to your "seven deadly sins" dress, and let's get this over with."

Beaming with the excitement of a potential make-over, Mary Margaret nodded and ushered the blonde to follow her. She'd make her a knock-out whether she liked it or not!

* * *

><p>And as fate would have it, Emma did not like being made into a painted siren. Scowling at her reflection in the rear-view mirror of her car, she muttered under her breath and had the striking urge to wipe the make-up off her face.<p>

Gold's home was like a plantation, to say the least, since she'd been driving up his driveway for at least a full two minutes now.

"Good God, I hope I have enough gas," she grumbled. Gazing around her at the rolling grounds, she decided that it was beautiful, despite the fact it was getting hard to see through the darkness of night. She knew she shouldn't be surprised that Gold owned such opulence - he had claimed time after time that he was rich, after all - but she couldn't help but be awed at just how rich he must be.

After what felt like five to ten minutes, Emma finally pulled up in front of the house - mansion... castle - and stepped out on unsteady legs. Silently cursing her heels under her breath, she craned her neck and stared up, up, up until she spotted the very top of the roof.

She thought she heard the front door open, but she was too busy staring like a slack-jawed fool to really dignify Gold with a response. Then again, at this rate, it may not even be Gold ... he could surely afford hired help if he so desired.

Feeling foolish, Emma promptly closed her mouth and hesitantly walked forward. Her hand raised in greeting as her free one clutched at her purse, and she gave a sheepish, "Hi," as she spotted Gold on the porch.

'Nice ice breaker,' she sardonically scolded herself. 'Maybe next time you can add a nice little "hi, you" to spice things up.'

The man gave her a pleased smile and a gentile nod of the head as a reply. "Hello, Emma." He said, an apron still tied around his suit.

He probably had heard her coming and made his way to the door from out of the kitchen. Along the way he had been unable to remove the protective piece of clothing and as a result wore it with pride now. His green tie glimpsed from above the apron. He looked well-donned, though less than he had yesterday.

"Come in." he gestured openly at her, sweeping with his arm to signal her entrée and waiting for her to step into the house first before he followed her. Emma hadn't realized Gold was wearing an apron until she approached the porch, her nails digging into her palms as she tried her best to prevent the smile that longed to fill her face. "Thank you," she mumbled, barely able to prevent the laughter as she walked past him. He (fortunately) hadn't seen her expression, but there was an unmistakable warmth and joviality in her voice because of it. It was rather odd picturing Gold as "Mr. Suzie Homemaker," but she wasn't about to tease him since God only knows what he might slip into her food. He was knowledgeable of several foreign items, so he could easily poison her without her even knowing it.

His admiring eyes roamed her body, taking in the details of her dress and the way it hugged her curves. He could instantly imagine how the dress belonged to her roommate rather than to her, for Emma simply wasn't the type to dress up this vividly and like a 'lady'. Had it been his request that had caused her to doll up like she had the day before? For honestly, even though evening dresses were associated with ladies it wasn't what he associated with Emma. And when he had asked her to behave it had been more about the way she acted around him than the way she dressed.

Not that he would disapprove. Though he was very well aware it was more of a show than a way of living, he admired her looks and had to calm the beast inside of him that had been roaring for attention ever since she had come to town.

And tonight he had planned his grand finale.

If his little hints and suggestions hadn't been enough to rouse her suspicion and make her recall, he would find another way. Their battle for dominance had lasted long enough and he had grown weary of all their verbal fights. He expected no less of her tonight. A loose tongue and a harsh attitude towards him was what he anticipated. But he would not let that last.

Due to her staring at the sights around her, Emma didn't notice the way Gold was behaving around her. Of course, she was accustomed to making sure they had as little eye contact whenever possible, but in most cases she was good at telling when someone was staring at her. ...And especially so openly.

Blowing a golden ringlet out of her face, Emma immediately regretted letting Mary Margaret do her hair. It was a messy bun, and because of the tousled look, stray locks kept falling in her vision and irritating her to the point she wanted to cut them off.

With her hands on her hips, Emma was vaguely aware of the fact that her stance made her look like a tomboy, but somehow she couldn't bring herself to soften her appearance. For men like Graham, she'd allowed her necklines to go lower and, when she was feeling exceptionally coy, she'd put an extra swing into her hips when she walked. But with Gold, she felt subconscious of her every movement and almost appeared wooden in stature.

As he guided her to the table he made sure she had time to admire the paintings and art in his home. The ceiling rose, shuttered doors, a tinkling chandelier and embellished stucco pillars half incorporated in the walls of the hallway. It was already getting dark outside, so the sight she had from the kitchen on the back garden wasn't enough to show the beautiful flowers he held there.

A brittle smile on her lips, she softly asked, "How can you stand living in a place like this all by yourself? I'd go crazy staying in a house where it takes five minutes to get to the bathroom..." Although it had started off as a joke, she immediately regretted her words since she didn't want him to take it the wrong way. Gold, after all, probably didn't wish to stay in it all by himself, and more than likely wanted to share it with his son. ...And possibly the non-existent wife he'd spoken of.

He allowed her to pick a chair herself and finished the last preparation for their meal. When he limped back to her side he held a bottle of red wine and showed it to her. Clearing her throat, Emma tried to calm her nerves. She was fidgety to say the least, and her toes kept curling and uncurling in her shoes as she tried to figure out what to say. ...Or perhaps it would be better to say nothing at all, considering how most of their conversations ended up in bloody verbal battles.

"Château Lafite Rothschild Pauillac." He said, knowing the taste was expensive. His voice was guttural and his leering eyes scoured her body. He would let this dinner start as normal as he could and then, at the right moment, he would strike. For now everything was according to plan.

Nearly jumping when she realized Gold was beside her, she placed a hand over her heart and gave a nervous laugh. "You scared me...I must've been daydreaming, sorry. Er...night-dreaming?" With a shrug of the shoulders, she then turned her attention to the wine and smirked. "And you really want to let me drink after what happened yesterday evening? Maybe I should just sip my wine instead of taking it by the glass... But then, you only live once, am I right?"

Holding up her stemware, Emma waited for him to pour it into her awaiting glass. In truth, she was a little nervous about possibly losing her inhibitions as before, but she promised herself she wouldn't have more than one glassful.

Watching the liquid enter the glassware, she gave it a sift and jokingly praised, "Ooh, smells like alcohol... In case you haven't guessed, I'm not exactly an expert on this stuff. You could be giving me the cheap Wal*Mart brand, and I honestly wouldn't even know the difference."

Mr Gold smiled at her, kindly, and set himself at the other end where he filled his own glass. "I figured we might go for something special as you are my special guest. I hardly have friends over, not to mention people in general. It'd be a shame to keep this bottled up when there is occasion for celebration."

He smiled toothily at her and set the bottle down, rising from his chair to plate the dishes he had prepared. He had been quite punctual and was relieved to see Emma had arrived only a few minutes after the appointed time. In truth he had expected anything of her varying from arriving extremely late to phoning him she wouldn't come at all. Having her here was truly a bliss.

Dinner that night consisted of crispy mushroom parcels with radicchio salad leaf and chive flowers as a starter, although not containing any meat it was a recipe suggested to him by Ruby who had said that it would do for a romantic meal. And Mr Gold planned to expose all his charm before unleashing his devilish side. The pans in the middle, still kept hot, contained pumpkin, spinach and chick pea yellow curry. Apart from the different sides, not too much and not too complicated but just as exquisite as his taste, he had a desert planned of chocolate strawberries with cream, but thought they might not get to that.

His usual plate of caviar and luxurious ingredients topping piles of meat that would be awaiting guests like Sydney or Regina he had left inside the fridge. Emma deserved something special, and no matter how much money food could cost it wouldn't necessarily make it taste any better than a normal crop from the fields. Some of the items of food Mr Gold had grown himself and he had been very particulate about how he grew them and as to their taste. Caviar which Regina liked so well, is nothing more but the eggs of a fish. Another of the mayor's luxurious favorites was soft roe. And soft roe, as Mr Gold sourly thought, was nothing more but fish sperm. If the night would evolve like he intended to Emma would end up with another kind of sperm instead.

And evil glance appeared in his eyes but quickly faded as he caught himself thinking indecent thoughts. He helped her to the starter and arranged his own plate, then sat down to thank before starting to feast on the chive flowers. His brown eyes found hers and he smiled at her.

"Enjoy your meal, Emma," a 'dearest' would not have sounded out of place had he added it. The huskiness of his voice betrayed his state of arousal and he silently pleaded she would not have noticed. So far she had not been able to recognize him or the hints he'd given to her for being the father of her child, and he intended to make her remember everything fully by the end of the night.

* * *

><p><strong>AU:<strong> This is all obviously written before the episode was aired in which we got to see Mr Gold's house ;)


	11. Water

**Desperate Souls**

_Chapter 3:_ _Disintegration_

**Water**

Emma had to laugh. "A 'special' guest? Well that's certainly a new one...usually when I'm invited to something, men run in the other direction. Er...well, mainly the ones who can't handle a tough broad wearing the pants in the situation." She had to smile as she picked up her fork, because being tougher than most men was something she had often prided herself in. If she couldn't have a normal life and a family, she damn well wanted to be viewed with respect. She had to admit she was surprised by the effort Gold had put into their dinner, because in all honesty, if she were in charge of preparing the meal, she would've just thrown a Stove Top dish into the oven and pray it wouldn't burn. She'd never been a very good cook (undoubtedly the understatement of the year), so it was always a nice change to eat something edible .

"Where did you learn to do all this?" she asked, wide-eyed as she stared at her plate in disbelief. "Seriously, I'm lucky if I can make frozen fish sticks properly. And in case you're wondering, yes, I am fully capable of burning water. I'm quite the talent when it comes to botching anything in the culinary department."

Embarrassed that she was babbling (especially since Gold might be scornful of her lack of cooking skills), Emma quickly took a bite of the dish in order to silence herself. It was honestly unlike anything she'd had - or seen , for that matter - but whatever it was, she found she actually liked it.

"It's very good," she assured him, still feeling foolish as she took a sip of wine. Good God, was it suddenly hot in there, or was it just her?

Tugging at the neckline of her dress, Emma released a breath and continued to eat with her eyes directed at her plate. She was afraid to see if Gold was still staring at her, because knowing her luck, she'd probably choke to death from nerves.

Fumbling for conversation, Emma glanced around her as if the walls held all the answers - which they sadly did not - and she naturally came up short. With a weak smile, she decided on a feeble, "Thanks again for agreeing to this. I'm sure Henry would say thank you too, if he even knew what was going on. Ironically, he's told me you're worse than Regina, so we'll see if he changes his mind after all this."

That last comment hurt him and changed the look in his eyes. Henry. What would he say if he found out about his parents like this? Now he had to assure his plan would work for any failure of it would be disastrous. He nervously nipped from his wine and placed the glass in front of him, engaging in a little chit-chat just to make her feel at ease. He would wait between each bite he took until the substance had gone down his throat and his mouth was empty but for words. All the while his smile showed kindness as he put on his mask and acted as well as a Hollywood star. Emma naturally hadn't noticed the hurt in Gold's eyes, for her gaze was glued to her plate as though she couldn't look away. She'd always been told it was "impolite" to avoid eye contact, but in all honesty, Gold had very disconcerting eyes. Sometimes she felt as though he could see right through her, and this was one of those moments that she very much wished to remain an enigma.

"Well, I guess Henry has never tasted my food, then." Mr Gold's accent was evident as he joked. His crooked teeth showed when he smiled at her from the other side of the table.

"Thank you, Emma, for your kind compliments. To be honest I never really have the chance to prepare a good meal for anyone but myself. Occasionally I have Regina and Kathryn visiting, and at times Sydney is there too. It depends. But mostly they come for business or to talk about the 'finer things' in life. I can't call it taste they have. As long as the food is expensive they say it tastes nice and that shows no appreciation for my hard work." He toyed with his knife.

The sheriff made sure to listen to his rant about his guests, her face pinching in disgust when she heard the mention of Regina. Although Gold claimed her company was undesirable and mostly about business, Emma found that her suspicious mind wondered how many of their little get-togethers were "underhanded soirees." But since Emma had agreed to hold her tongue until she could prove Gold was guilty, she merely forced a smile to her lips and nodded her agreement. Although she honestly couldn't attest to anything that he was saying. She, after all, had never had the displeasure of feeding Regina, or anyone, for that matter. And if she had, they most certainly wouldn't have paid her a compliment.

"They probably think you hired a cook," Emma offered, deciding that she could at least try to add to the conversation. "Spoiled snobs like Regina must have at least ten servants to wait on her every whim and fancy. I doubt she even knows what a pot or pan is."

"At least with you I'm always assured of your honest opinion. As we both know you won't hide any remarks or flatteries. But I think I have told you before that is what I admire about you. You're straightforward and headstrong. You know what you want. And you will be prepared to fight for it." For a moment they had eye-contact, then it broke as Mr Gold looked down at his plate to take another bite.

Eyes clouding over at the thought of her rival, Emma sourly took another bite and sighed. Glancing up at Gold as he spoke, she nearly jumped when she realized he was returning her gaze. It shouldn't have startled her - she was behaving rather childishly - but she'd grown accustomed to shielding herself during their conversation.

"I would," Emma softly agreed, gripping at her wine glass as though it were an anchor. "I know it's probably stupid, but I really think I would do anything to get him back. Anything within reason, of course. I mean, I'd like to think I'm not that crazy."

"As to Henry, it isn't just the food we've come to. And the food isn't intended to lessen the pain of this current issue. You've found back the boy and you regret having given him away. I can fully understand." Mr Gold nipped the food from his fork, munched on it and swallowed before turning his head to her again and flipping his hair out of his face. The brown strands kept sliding back like a curtain, teasingly wanting to obscure the object of his desire from his view.

"A parent acting for their child would do anything, would go to any lengths. It is quite a rare opportunity you have working with me. After all, like you said, I don't do anything for free, usually." He smiled mysteriously at her after that last line. Hands open in front of him, palms up to the ceiling.

Emma eyed him sharply. What had he meant by that? She was aware that he had another unknown child, but she wasn't under the impression that he'd given him up. It had sounded more like the mother had taken custody and left Gold high and dry.

"Mary was right when she told you to accept the offer. I would not have committed myself to anyone else and yesterday evening I was on the verge of retreat. "

Pausing mid-bite at his next words, she quirked a brow and eyed him oddly. Committed himself to anyone else? What was he talking about?

Afraid that she'd sound foolish for asking for an explanation, she instead nodded and agreed, "Yeah, well...hopefully Mary's right about this. She tends to have a pretty good intuition."

'Except when it comes to her own love life,' Emma mentally added.

"Is your child here in Storybrooke?" Emma asked, immediately kicking herself since he probably didn't wish to answer that. "I-I mean, it's ok if the kid is, because I doubt I even know them... I'm only acquainted with a handful because of Mary."

For a moment Mr Gold choose to remain silent before he set his wine aside. Overcome by a sudden distaste for his food and drink, he wiped his lips with his napkin and shove his plate aside, ready for the next dish. He helped Emma to a new plate, and then himself, and as he sat down he mumbled something incoherent and nodded his head.

"I have a different wine to go along with this." He said, ignoring her comment about Mary. "But I doubt it'd be wise for you to take another glass. Not that you're not fun when you get drunk." He said with a grin. "But yesterday you must have had your fill of it. I was truly amazed you came to visit me this morning. You must have suffered from a headache still, or did it not affect you like that? I know from my own experience too much drink can be like a nasty blow to the head."

Surprised when Gold placed yet another plate down in front of her, Emma reluctantly handed over her plate and mumbled her thanks. She didn't have a tremendous appetite that evening (thanks mostly to her nerves), but she didn't have the heart to say she wasn't hungry.

Nibbling at the new dish, Emma looked up at Gold's remark and smirked. "Ok, now that was below the belt... I promise I can usually hold my own when it comes to alcohol, but I guess it went right to my head since I was drinking on an empty stomach. Not the wisest decision in the world, but what can I say? I'm not exactly known for my "genius" tactics." Sending him an odd look, she asked, "What, are you saying someone has to be suffering from an ailment to come to your shop? Although in most cases I'd agree with you, I can promise I wasn't still drunk. A little hungover, sure, but that's what aspirin's for."

Mr Gold could feel Emma's prying gaze as he figured she must be wondering why he had ignored almost all of her previous questions and comments, and with a sigh placed his napkin aside. He had been absentmindedly toying with it, and only realized so now.

"My son? You're asking about my past? You're asking personal questions about me, Emma. And with that look," Mr Gold said.

Taken aback by Gold's assumptions, she stammered, "This is my normal face! I can't help how I'm looking at you." With a slight pout, she nudged her food with her fork and cringed.

Mr Gold shook his head and returned with a crooked smile. "You give me a look as if I am a serial killer devoid of wife or perhaps never have been married. Well, I was married, Emma, long ago. We were childhood friends, lovers even. I lost my wife and son many years ago, before I became who I am now." He hadn't spoken about his other son yet and found it was hard for him to do so. He tried to muster the words but they were stuck I his throat and he had to drink the last of his wine before he could speak again. He set the glass down with a clink and decided to stare at it.

His serial killer remark should've put her at ease, but instead it made her think of her conversation with Mary. It was almost as if the man was constantly inside her head, and it unnerved her.

"I'd never say that. At least, not to your face," Emma muttered. She had stopped poking at her food when he mentioned his wife. It was honestly quite hard to envision him in marital bliss - hell, let alone having a child - but now his bitterness made far more sense. To have loved and lost was one thing, but to lose a child was the ultimate blow to the heart. It was every being's worst fear, and Emma was by far no exception.

Mr Gold had gotten up to refill his glass and refill hers. "What would you like?" He asked, gesturing at a bottle of white wine and one containing simple pure water from some mountain source in Germany.

Brows furrowed in thought, she hardly even realized Gold was beside her until she heard him speak. Brushing the hair back from her eyes, she muttered, "At this rate? I'd better stick with the water."

That was probably_ the smartest move she'd made all week_, she decided.

With a pleased grin Mr Gold limped to fill her glass with water, easily slipping in a small white tablet of his own devising, a drug he had used ten years ago when an eighteen year old girl who had a little bit too much alcohol downed asked him for a glass of water. The trick had worked back then, and as the drug swirled easily into transparency he handed her the glass and set to his own end of the table with an elegant sweep of the leg and a smug smile to accompany it.

Taking a sip of the water, Emma made a face and asked, "This was German, was it? It's kind of bitter-tasting, but I suppose they have different palettes over there...oh well, I'll live." Waving it off, she watched Gold return to his seat and anxiously fiddled with the stem of her glass.

As luck would have it, Emma was a compulsive drinker when she was nervous. If there was a drink in front of her, she'd keep taking sips of it until it was completely gone, and since she now had water instead of wine, she wasn't nearly as hesitant to undergo her traditional binge drinking.

"Yes, Emma," Mr Gold said with a sigh, returning to her former question, "my son is in town. I brought him here."

With a despondent look on her face, Emma only lifted her gaze when Gold spoke. And although she'd braced herself for the option, she was admittedly shocked to find out that his son was, indeed there in Storybrooke. "You brought him here? Well, why can't you have him, then? Is the mother preventing you from having partial custody?"

Racking her brain for something - anything - that could possibly indicate the identity of Gold's son, Emma was frustrated to find she couldn't remember a single time he'd been seen with a child.

"Unfortunately that seems to be the case. Just like you I feared I couldn't take care of the child. I didn't want for my son to be completely out of my life so I had him adopted by someone I was certain of I could see him as often as I pleased. Of course," He smiled ironically, "I never told anyone I was the father of the child."

He refilled his own glass. He took the white wine, abandoning the red and not at all ready for something less strong like water. He brought the glass to his lips, eyes lingering on Emma's face as his lips touched the brim of the glass, tasting the liquid inside.


	12. Drug

**Desperate Souls**

_Chapter 3:_ _Disintegration_

**Drug**

Mr Gold felt he now had to explain his motives more carefully, and as he licked his lips sensually while he placed the glass back onto the dining table his eyes never failed to meet hers. His voice became hypnotic, low and humming with his Scottish accent ever rasping. His brown eyes became dark pools of lust and feelings long since hidden and denied, iced with memories of painful times. But there was also hope in them, swirling as if to capture Emma and drown them in this bath of pure hope for a better future. And if not necessarily better, a future that would at least hold someone else. A future promising a family life.

"I don't doubt I should be telling you how other people think about me. They mostly share the same opinion you held over me. I always thought it would be for the better to have my son raised by people who would be unbiased when they would hold him in their arms. By people who were not shunned by society."

With a shrug of her shoulder at Gold's words, Emma mumbled, "Well yeah, but you don't give them a chance to see you differently Iif I didn't know any better, I'd say you like being feared by the public eye. I mean, if you really wanted people to like you, you'd try harder to tell them what you're telling me."

"By someone," Mr Gold continued, "a mother, who would nurse him and take interest in his education, and who would guarantee that one day she'd step so much out of line that the birth mother would be able to take her son back and that I would be there, giving him back the family he always deserved to have."

His finger gently brushed the cold surface off the glass. His gaze was still intent upon her face, observing her for any signs of the drug to do its work and render her unable to fight him. His lips parted ever so slowly and a low throaty sound escaped him as he wiggled in his chair, repositioning himself.

She had quirked a brow at his story about a foster mother versus the birth mother and took another sip of water, then shook her head. "Wow, small world. I could really relate to that woman in so many ways. But you say you're going to help them reunite? You must have quite a few broken families knocking down your door."

It was meant as a joke, but Emma realized that she wasn't smiling. In fact, she was quite warm, and as she leaned her head back against the high-backed chair, she felt the sudden urge to wilt in her seat.

Trying her best to snap out of her stupor, Emma took another sip of water with the hopes of lowering the heat in her face.

"And then when she came along" Gold said, eyes lingering on the sheriff in front of him, "and my son spoke so beautifully about her I could not deny that I am selfish man any longer. For I wanted her. I wanted her back in my life although she had never been a true part of it. I yearned for her, craved her touch, craved the sound of her voice. To see my son happy around her and to be there too, sharing their happiness. This would be my bliss. I knew what I wanted and now I know how to get it."

"What was that? I'm sorry, I...I heard you, but I couldn't quite hear your words," Emma confessed, squinting slightly as a bead of sweat trickled down her neck. Now brushing back her hair, she suddenly felt embarrassed when she realized Gold was speaking of a woman. His words were ardent and full of longing, and she felt as though she shouldn't be listening to such an intimate account. Moving to end the vivid speech, Emma opened her mouth in preparation to halt his words, but instead it was she who halted the moment Gold uttered his last sentence.

His voice had turned to an erotic whisper. "_And there is nothing you can do to stop me from getting it all_."

"I, excuse me?" she demanded, eying him with a look of bewilderment and annoyance. "How am I in the way of your happiness? I don't even know what the hell you're talking about..."

Rising as though she'd leave him to his musings, Emma gave a yelp when her weight gave out and she crashed back down into her seat. Bleary-eyed and stunned, she trained her unfocused gaze on Gold and gritted her teeth. "You poisoned me," she accused, swallowing slightly as she tried to make heads or tails of the room spinning madly about her. "You son of a bitch...you tricked me!"

The man opposite of her watched calmly as the drug took its effect and Emma was unable to rise properly from her chair. He thought how ironic it was for her to be unable to support her own weight, to sink through her knees like he would through his lame one. He had watched her rant and heard her soft pleas, and as she found herself growing silent he folded his hands in front of him and leered at her from over the dishes. No desert indeed.

With trembling fingers, Emma grabbed the serrated knife by her plate and held it up as a pathetic shield, her breathing coming in soft, shallow pants as her breasts heaved from the adrenaline rush.

"What do you want?" she managed to choke out, yet her tone was far weaker than she wished to convey. "Please, I...I don't understand the point of this... Let me go home."

And yet, if he really had poisoned her, what then? She'd never get to see Henry again, and all because she'd foolishly agreed to make a deal with Satan.

Hair falling into her line of vision, Emma bowed forward and gripped at the table with her free hand. Her right still held the knife loosely in her grasp, but deep-down she knew the effort was useless. Whatever Gold had given has was strong, and it took everything in her power to try and move her limbs.

"Doesn't this ring a bell, dear Emma?"

He waited for a reply but saw her dazed look and concluded he had to expand his explanation.

"Now why would I poison you, if I did?" He said, teasing her with a malicious grin that would confirm any theory about devils she might have held in her head.

"Why would I do that if you're to be my partner in this undertaking? If you're possibly my friend." He smiled at her, expecting an answer screeching he could forget that last part.

"Well, aren't we friends, Emma?" He rose from his seat and limped over to her, lifting her face with his free hand and looking in her eyes. His lips pressed into a thin line and his smile had been replaced by a slight frown.

Emma tried her best to focus on Gold's words, but every time her heart pounded, the rush of blood to her head caused her to woozily vacillate between consciousness and unconsciousness. He was going on about how they weren't really friends, but she didn't have the faculties to tell him how right he was on that account. At this rate, he'd be lucky to even walk after she managed to recompose herself.

If she'd ever recompose herself.

"No, of course we aren't." Mr Gold replied for her. "We weren't. I told you I make the perfect enemy. But I didn't just ask you here to give you feelings of hostility. In fact, I asked you to achieve the opposite. By tomorrow you will have little recall about this night. It's the drug you see… it makes you a little.. dazed."

He gently traced his fingers through her hair. Delicious, it was, that she could not truly move away from his touch. It sent shivers down his spine of delight to think how easy a prey she was to conquer. Not that he wouldn't have liked a little struggle, but this way he would at least get what he wanted.

"Still doesn't ring a bell, does it? Let me explain myself differently to you. Whether you choose for me to be your enemy or your friend in this little enterprise is up to you. But I urge you to choose wisely."

Head bowed and hair masking her vision, she swayed a little and whimpered at the mentioning of a drug. So, she wasn't poisoned - ironically, this did little to assuage her fears, for there were far things worse than death. Being molested by Gold was most certainly one of them.

Feeling his fingers gently brush through her hair, Emma shuddered and willed herself to move away, but to her horror found that she couldn't do anything to save herself. "Stop it," she whispered, her eyes closing as she swallowed weakly. "Stop it, stop it, stop it."

But her feeble pleas fell on deaf ears, and Emma gave a pained yelp when Gold yanked her up by the hair. He fisted her hair and pulled her slightly from her seat. For a man of his frailty he had incredible force. Head bent back and being held firmly in place, Emma grimaced as she experienced a feeling akin to pure helplessness. Her body felt as though it were being held up by marionette strings, and her head began to pound as her heels awkwardly slid against the hardwood floor.

"You're hurting me," she rasped, yet Gold didn't seem to hear her. Either that, or he didn't care one way or the other.

Whimpering when he gave her hair yet another forceful yank, Emma cringed as Gold forcefully drew her forward and brought his lips to her ear.

A pleased yet threatening smirk was on his face as he spoke to her, voice low and grave as his mouth came closer to her ear. His low words made her squirm against him, but her efforts were pitiful in comparison to the strength that was holding her in place.

"Almost eleven years ago you found yourself on a party, drunk, giddy, accepting water instead of wine in an attempt to save yourself from the horny men at the party. Instead of being wise you were tricked by a serpent, a man who had set out to get this one thing: your body writhing underneath his." His hot breath caromed her ear, trickling down the skin of her neck.

Emma had managed to put her hands on her chest as if this would somehow distance them, but Gold's intentions grew clearer as he spoke horrifying, frightening words into her ear.

Eyes wide, she felt like a victim of paralysis as she fought for breath, her knees nearly giving out when he opened his mouth against her feverish skin. Feeling tears prickling at the back of her lashes, Emma gave an internal scream and mentally told herself she would never cry in front of this sadistic bastard. He wanted to break her - to make her a pitiful shell of the woman she tried to convey on a daily basis - but she wouldn't let him. If he was going to take her against her will, she at the very least wouldn't give him the satisfaction of her tears.

His lips found her flesh, kissing the auricle before brushing down to her earlobe. Nails digging feebly into Gold's lapels, Emma's breathing grew labored as his lips traveled from her neck to her earlobe. He nipped it, clenching it a second time between his teeth and gently tucking at it. She wanted to run or strike out, but all she could do was allow the lascivious attentions on her skin. Her body was not a temple, and she knew this, but the thought of Gold invading her without her permission made her want to die.

Suddenly Mr Gold distanced himself from her. In a fit of rage, or just other subsided feelings, he unexpectedly swept the table clean with his cane. Plates fell to the ground, crashing into pieces, pans rolling over to the other end, the bottle of wine falling and breaking and the remainders of the water and sauces spilling over the table. Mr Gold looked like a beast, letting out a guttural roar. The action took only a few seconds but had been so sudden, so abrupt, that it was frightful. His left hand now moved down Emma's back to heave her up from the chair by the back of her dress. His strength wasn't good enough to keep her full weight now, and he had to let go the moment she was up straight. If she were to fall she would land upon the dining table where he could have her.

His hand let go of her hair, leaving a weary blonde mess.

Emma panted and tried to remain standing. Breasts heaving from the strain, she finally felt her legs give out and she crashed right into the dining room table. With a shuddery intake of breath, she felt like sobbing when she realized how goddamn helpless she was. Her arms were now resting in her own dinner, and she could do nothing about it. Her drugged water had also been spilt by the fall, but this was of little consequence to her. All she could truly think about was Gold's location, because despite still being able to see, the room was spinning about so wildly that everything was but a blur.

Coughing as though she were choking, Emma shuddered and bowed her head forward in resignation. She'd heard before that in the wild, animals that faced impending perils would eventually give up after struggling. It seemed that now was her time, for she didn't have the strength to do anything but speak.

Forehead now resting against the table, Emma quivered and hated the fact that she was bent over as though she were presenting herself. If she could just roll slightly to the right, perhaps she could somehow sit back in her chair.

"You'll choose how to continue this game tomorrow, dear." Mr Gold promised her as he came to stand in front of the drugged Emma. "But remember, I'll stop at _nothing_ to get back my son."


	13. Forced

**AU: **This chapter contains noncon Adult material. Skip it if you dislike such content or if you're not of age yet. Thank you :)

**Desperate Souls**

_Chapter 3:_ _Disintegration_

**Forced**

Sensing Gold beside her, Emma trembled and felt her rage returning tenfold. " Your son?" she choked out, unable to prevent the disdain from entering her voice. "He will never be your son, Gold...I won't let you near him! I-I'll tell Regina! I'll..." Feeling woozy from her rapid speech, Emma stopped to catch her breath and quivered. With a slight shake of the head, she growled into the tabletop, "You're a bastard...you're a lonely, evil bastard ! How can you expect me to cooperate when I'm practically a vegetable?"

"Exactly." Mr Gold rasped his reply. "You can't. And neither can you resist me."

Emma quivered with a mixture of rage and genuine fear at Gold words, and she hated him in that moment. Hated him for making her so defenseless and weak, and hated him for acting as though she were nothing but a mere plaything to be used and discarded. Many a man had treated her as such, but she was especially disdainful of Gold since his gentlemanly act was all but a rouse. Deep-down he was a man - no, a _monster_ - with impure motivations, and Emma wanted to kick herself for not having seen through his invitation.

Trying yet again to move, Emma gave up and released a frustrated scream. If he came near her, she decided she would bite him...at this point she'd do anything to keep him away from her and Henry.

His hands roamed her body before she could respond and found a way to lift her dress. His fingers hooked her panties and started tugging them down. He'd sat down on Emma's chair to be able to use both his hands as he intended to enjoy this evening to the fullest, with the plan of stretching his pleasure as well as her body to the max that night.

She made a weak attempt at stomping on his foot. Her movements only succeeded in making her right leg slip into a more accommodating stance to Gold's actions.

Her underwear was discarded, dropped to the floor and finding it's place in a pool of drying wine. She made a noise of protest and shivered at the sudden chill against her skin. But Mr Gold's hands were already on her hips again, caressing the sensitive skin with his thumbs in small circular motions that were almost easing. She was now vulnerable and could feel his eyes burning into her, her teeth biting into her bottom lip as she feebly tried to pull her legs together.

Sadly, Emma was not allowed such modesty, and she jerked forward when she felt his lips on her most intimate spot. To her fear, he moved his head between her legs and brushed his lips past her slit, tasting her and prodding her sweetness with his tongue. Arching her back as if this might help her escape his administrations, her actions only caused her to press back further into his touch. Biting her lip to the point it bled, she gripped the table cloth tightly between her fingers as she felt his tongue thrashing against her clit.

His hands were on her legs in a firm grip, keeping them apart. His tongue skillfully found her sensitive knob, sucking and nipping at her clit while he was keeping her hips down. A low throaty moan escaped him and his eyes closed. Tasting her, smelling her core, and to be able to rub his nose in her sweet juices…. It was pure bliss and took him back many years ago.

His kisses became more rough, the movements of his tongue more eager until he set his teeth on her clit, pinching it and moving his head from side to side feverishly.

There was something quite surreal about the scenario to Emma - almost as if she were in a waking dream - and her body began to traitorously respond as she fought for breath. With a whimper, she tried to claw a path away from her aggressor, but all she succeeded in doing was knocking another dish off the table.

It crashed against the floor in a thousand splinters of glass, and Emma flinched when she felt Gold's actions grow more feverish and attentive. Trying to stifle a soft moan against her hand, she trembled as an undeniable ache began to throb throughout her womb and grip her core, her toes curling as her breathing turned into short, shallow pants.

"Please stop," Emma begged, her words sounding strained and sorrowful. She didn't want to sound desperate, but she was truly afraid of what he might take from her. It was obvious he had the intention of violating her, but what she feared most of all was not being fucked, but rather the possibility of losing what little dignity she had left. Her pride was all she had, and if this monster took it from her, how could she be a good mother to Henry?

Choking on a sob at the thought, Emma squeezed her eyes tightly closed and forced herself not to cry.

When Mr Gold let go and looked up at Emma he realized that she was still in the most brilliant position to be fucked. Her legs were apart and her face away from him. She had not been able to roll on her side and was still stuck with her belly to the table, helpless and defenseless.

Emma could hear Gold moving behind her now, and trembled once she realized he was fussing with the zipper to his pants.

He opened his breeches and brought forth a throbbing erection. He toyed with it in his hand, slipping his right hand up and down the shaft a time or two just to feel the veins pulse underneath his palm. He had tried to prepare Emma for the infiltration, but now was too eager to wait any longer, and with effort managed to push himself up from the chair and fall against the blonde beauty on the table. He stabilized himself and guided the tip of his cock to her entrance, applying some light pressure. He slapped her naked cheeks, exposed to him from the moment he had removed her panties, and let out a low chuckle.

With her forehead pressed against the tabletop, she jumped in anger and humiliation when she felt him spank her ass. She could feel him pressed against her entrance at this point, and although her body's initial reaction was to try and take him in, Emma resisted and leaned forward with the hopes of distancing their bodies.

"Oh, you can protest, darling, but in the end you know you'll have loved it. You did before. "

Despite her horrifying predicament, Emma couldn't help but sneer at Gold's words. Enjoy it? She'd show that fucker - she'd keep silent and just lay there like a rag doll, proving once and for all that she'd never "love" what he was doing to her.

His last remark, however, threw her considerably off-guard. She knew Gold had claimed Henry was his son, but she hadn't quite filled in all the pieces until that very moment. All these years she'd been able to picture herself writhing beneath a faceless figure, but now she could see Gold's face and she gave a cry at the discovery.

At that moment Gold decided to enter her, and Emma's mouth opened in a silent scream as her body adjusted to his size. She wanted to sob now that she knew the truth, but she was far too prideful to allow herself the luxury. With a knowing chuckle he pushed forth, easing a satisfying sigh as he felt the head slip in easily. He could feel her body trying to adjust and couldn't help the irony of the thought that she must have been untouched for a while. Which would mean the former sheriff wouldn't have had his fill. He smirked pleased and without a warning thrust in completely, burying him to the hilt with a groan. He flinched, face contorting in a mix of pleasure and pain at the feel of Emma's velvety warmth surrounding him. It had truly been too long.

Shuddering when Gold groaned in her ear, she felt his hands brace on either side of her hips as he began to slowly, torturously thrust up into her body. Emma closed her eyes and whimpered, heat coiling in her belly as she fought against giving any potential reaction.

Uncertain if he could keep his self-control, Mr Gold started a slow pace. Thrust after thrust he could hear their skin meeting. He could hear his balls slam against her clit. He could hear how from their joining satiating wet sounds emerged. His hand travelled down her back, caressing as much as he could with the fabric of her dress still in between. Soppy wet sounds now filled the room and they were accompanied by Mr Gold's low moans as he started a steady rhythm. Firm thrusts. Short, regular movements.

Emma gasped as her body jerked forward with each desperate thrust. Her head bowed and rested against the table cloth, and her cheeks colored when she accidentally released a soft whine.

"Stop," she begged, yet her plea was punctuated with a breathless gasp. Frustrated, she cursed her body's betrayal as her wetness allowed Gold to slide in deeper, her eyes fluttering as she began to lean back into him.

She longed to take control of her body again, but Emma knew the drug was far from releasing her from its numbing shackles.

With her teeth gritting, she hissed when an especially arousing thrust knocked her onto her elbows, her eyes narrowing as she promised herself right then and there that she would not orgasm. She wouldn't give the smug bastard the satisfaction. Deep-down, she was almost positive that she was only behaving in the way she was because of the drug, for if she were sober? Gold would've been knocked straight onto his ass.

A throaty moan brought her away from her thoughts and back to the sweaty reality. With each thrust the table shook and one or another primal sound escaped the man who was taking her. Any thoughts of control had slipped away and his thrusts had now become irregular and with different vigor. One thrust was soft, the next was deep and hard.

Emma let out a yelp when she once again found herself falling onto her elbows, her body jerking along with Gold's relentless thrusts as she fought for breath. His movements were more strenuous now, and the violently rocking table was physical proof of his enthusiasm.

She grit her teeth when the next thrust launched her even further up the table, her eyes desperately searching for the knife she'd earlier had in her possession. With a stab of fear, she then realized it was on the floor and cursed under her breath. She doubted she would've been able to use the weapon against her aggressor, but the thought alone was enough to comfort her in her misery.

His hands dug into her skin, coloring her hips with his touch, leaving two firm palm prints she would see for the coming two days. Emma winced from the pain while realizing she would surely bruise. Since her own hands were close to his, she somehow managed to grab him by the wrists and dig her nails in deep. She prayed to a God she wasn't sure existed that he was bleeding - that he was hurting the way he'd hurt her.

"I hate you," Emma half-sobbed, half-gasped, her eyes squeezing tightly closed. "I hate you so fucking much..."

Gold thrust up deeper inside her in response, and Emma whined as her hips traitorously tilted to take him in. His actions were more aggressive now, and she shuddered as she felt his breath scorching the nape of her neck.

He could feel her body starting to give way and let out a low chuckle as he realized that she was enjoying it, or at least her body was. Taking her over the edge would be so simple now, as he started to bang her deep. With each thrust he hit a place deep down inside of her that made her body tingle all over, that made her shiver and respond to him, that gave her the ultimate pleasure. For a man who was taking her 'against her will' he was surely doing a good job in getting her to orgasm.

With his teeth clenched he started driving into her in a fury, suppressing gasps, moans and cries as he worked to his own peak, he came with a final deep blow and buried himself deep, the tip of his manhood pressing painfully against her cervix. He released his juices, spilling his semen inside of her, filling her fruitful womb. She dropped forward before he fell against her quivering form; a hoarse moan escaped him as he temporarily collapsed on top her. Then, after a few minutes of catching his breath and caressing her body all over, he slipped out of her and rolled her onto her back.

Emma was proud of herself for not having orgasmed, but when she felt Gold's hands on her hips again, she suddenly realized he wasn't through with her. With a noise of protest, Emma found herself being rolled over onto her back, her legs still spread in helpless surrender as she dizzily gazed up at the ceiling. "Stop it," she pleaded, her lashes now blocking off her view. "Please... please stop..."

His hands started to work, nimble fingers peeling off her dress and slipping down her bra. She was now naked and being devoured by his hungry gaze. Subconsciously digging her nails into her palms, she kept her eyes directed straight ahead as he lowered his warm, burning mouth to her pulse point. Trembling all over, she jerked slightly when his tongue flicked against her skin, and her nipples hardened when she felt his hands cup her breasts. His tongue traced the remnants of wine from her throat, sucking the pulse there before giving her languish licks down her chest and to her breasts. He capture a nipple between his lips, pulling and sucking at it, nibbling like a child. Then made his way over to the other, watching them become erect.

Despite her shame and misery, Emma was grateful to one thing and one thing only: throughout this entire violation, Gold hadn't kissed her. Although sex was most certainly intimate, kissing had a certain tenderness that she was not willing to share with such a monster of a man. At this point she had very little dignity left, and she knew that with one touch of his defiling lips, she'd be left a broken shell of the woman she once was.

Sucking her breath when she felt him bite a nipple, Emma turned her head to the side and tried to still the furious pounding of her heart. He could more than likely hear the terror of her pulse - could possibly sense how very much they resembled a wolf capturing a rabbit as its prey - but if there was one thing she was certain of, she would not allow him to believe she was enjoying herself.

His body moved against hers, once again positioning him. His hard shaft pressed against her abdomen, signaling he had become hard once more and was ready for another go. For a man of his age he certainly hadn't lost his stamina.

Yearning to strike him, Emma made a noise of despair when she felt Gold's erection pressing snugly against her navel. Normally she welcomed such intimacy from men, but in this case there was neither genuine arousal or a desire for company from the opposite sex.

Squeezing her eyes shut when she felt him lift her hips, Emma gave a piteous cry when he entered her as violently as before. She could sense his aggression increasing, and she arched her back as her head knocked painfully against the tabletop. His dominance was clear, but she inwardly assured herself that he wouldn't have succeeded if she had been sober. He pushed into her sweet folds, rolling his eyes back in the process, and started another round. The sopping sounds that accompanied each thrust were a heavy reminder of the way he had come inside her only moments ago.

Keeping a steady pleasurable pressure, Mr Gold continued his ministrations, his hands sweeping past her skin and his rough fingertips causing electrical shocks at the contact with her flesh. He toyed with her bosom, dipping his head forth to pant in her ear. His hands massaged her breasts while his thrusts continued, pounding her into oblivion.

Feeling dizzier than before, Emma grasped weakly at Gold's forearms and dug her nails in to the point of pain. Their union grew almost desperate, and she could sense that the end was finally near. Before either could come undone, however, Emma gave a sharp gasp and painted out in a sea of black.


	14. Morning After

**Desperate Souls**

_Chapter 4:_ _Ruined_

**Morning After**

The morning sun touched her face and the sound of birds chirping slowly started to bring her back to consciousness. The sun infiltrated Emma's slumber with painful, stabbing rays of light that violated her eyes. With a groan, she placed a hand against her forehead and curled in on herself, her mind muddled and disoriented as she tried to figure out why she was in so much pain.

A definite soreness radiated from between her legs, and she felt as though she had several scratches and bruises on various parts of her body. Finally opening her eyes, Emma blearily took in the sight of an ornate bedroom with old-fashioned furniture. As she rubbed the sleep from her gaze, she suddenly put two and two together and shot up as if attached to a rocket.

Emma found herself on a king-sized bed between velvet covers and the half-clad body of a man. Mr Gold's hair showed from above the sheets, sprawled to all sides like a mess. His body was warm against hers, but not restricting her from movements. Their bodies only touched at one side.

Whether Mary would be worried about her was something Mr Gold had taken care of, when he had called her last night to tell her Emma had been drinking and was in no state to return homewards. They had agreed he would walk her home the next day, which was now.

In full-blown panic mode, Emma suddenly felt the warmth of another human being and jerked to the right, her limbs flailing once she spotted a shock of hair pooling out from beneath the velvet sheets.

"Oh, my God," she whispered, her cheeks burning with a mixture of horror and rage. "Oh, my God !"

Practically falling out of bed, Emma glanced down at her prominent nudity and blanched upon discovering the stickiness coating her thighs. Now feeling sick, the blonde promptly ducked into the attached bathroom and ran straight to the toilet. Lifting the lid, she quivered and unloaded the contents of her stomach into the porcelain bowl, her sobs now choked with vomit as she began to cry.

Gold...he'd tricked her somehow. That much she could remember...

Wiping at her mouth, Emma furiously brushed the tears from her eyes and glared back in the direction of the bedroom. Now rising on unsteady legs, she stormed back into the room and began to search for her clothes. Amazingly, she found them neatly folded on a high-backed chair. Slipping into her dress, Emma thought she heard a groggy noise behind her and instantly froze.

Head whipping in Gold's direction, a fire burned within Emma's soul and her feet began leading her toward the bed despite her better judgement. Once she was standing beside her attacker, she ripped back the covers and seized Gold by the throat amidst her fury. Yanking him up into a sitting position, she slammed him back against the wall so hard that his teeth rattled, her forearm now pressing against his windpipe as she crawled into his lap.

"Rise and shine, motherfucker," she hissed, now pressing harder on his throat. "Did you actually think you could get away with raping a Sheriff? Did you really expect me to welcome this situation with open arms?"

Her eyes appeared almost feral as she held him in place, and coupled with her wildly mussed hair, she looked like an animal caught in a trap.

Breathing heavily, she finally let back a bit on her hold so Gold could breathe. Her mind was struggling wildly to recall every snippet of the night before, but she was still slightly under the effects of the drugs and couldn't remember everything in its entirety.

Mr Gold struggled under her grip, but only for a moment, then he relaxed and reached up his hands to circle around her wrists. She could see now that he had traces of sharp moon-like circles on his wrists. They had, no doubt, been created when she had held him there last night. He gave her a smug smile as their eyes met.

"Emma, I was by no means intending to hurt you. All I tried to do was make you recall." He gave her such a sheepish smile it made him look innocent. "Don't you?" He shook his head with a smile. His long brown hair fell to cover his eyes and he had to shake it aside, revealing a look of hurt.

"You don't remember last night, do you?" His face was sour. His hands were still upon her wrists, their touch light like feathers and not at all hostile. It was a pity, he thought, that the girl who had been writhing underneath him, screaming for him in pure lust some eleven years ago, had now been begging for him to stop. Now that she had come to know him she seemed to treat him like a monster, like all other villagers did. And all he wanted from her was affection and a life with their son. He was even willing to put his selfishness aside at one point but she had crushed his hopes with her high pointed heels and left him to crawl in the dirt of desperateness. If he would lose her he would, but he wasn't going to lose their son. His son.

Emma gave a bitter laugh. "Not intending to hurt me? Do you even know anything about women, you narcissistic asshole ? Because here's a course refresher for you: if you want to get on a woman's good side, you a) don't break their trust, b) don't lure them into some sick trap, and c) you do not fuck them against their will! Do you have any idea how harmful that sort of behavior is to most women? You could've seriously hurt me or gotten me pregnant!"

Still seething, her bangs fell into her line of vision and she quivered with rage as he spoke. The more Gold talked, the more she loathed him, and the painful reminder between her thighs made her want to seek vengeance all the more. A thought suddenly struck her, and she felt the desire to go forth with guns blazing.

"How many other women have you raped?" she demanded, her eyes flashing with a fury unlike any other she'd experienced. "Huh? Have you hurt Ruby? Or maybe Ashley Boyd?" When he failed to speak, she shook him harshly and shouted, " Answer me, damn you!"

His jaw clenched. "I brought you here last night to bring back memories. Did I fail to do that, Emma?" he looked at her, his eyes tempted to dart to her lips. Those very same lips he had ravished time after time again while she had been under the drug's influence. There was no doubt she couldn't remember any of that. But he could. So very tasty she had been.

By now she was panting amidst her fury, and when Gold asked her if she didn't recall the night before, she leaned back a bit and regarded him in confusion. What else was there to remember aside being taken against his dining room table?

Bosom still heaving from the adrenaline, she glared down at him as he spoke, her limbs quivering as he asked if he'd failed to bring back memories.

"...Memories?" she dumbly asked, now swallowing as a feeling akin to dread entered the pit of her stomach. Her head was pounding, and she momentarily lost consciousness due to the effort of racking her brain for something - anything - that could help grasp what he was talking about.

He parted his lips in a gasping desire and looked her in the eyes with a gaze that pleaded mercy.

"When will you see, Emma? When will you recall your past and when will you prepared to ask the right questions?"

Gold shifted slightly underneath her, and the sudden movement brushed against her crotch and caused a jolting pain to sear through her. Simultaneously, she was able to envision Gold thrusting into a younger version of herself, and she gave a cry before tearing away from the man as though she'd been burned.

Falling to the floor with a 'thud,' she raced back into the bathroom and dove for the toilet.

At once she began to empty the remainder of last night's meal, her temples throbbing as the image of being entangled in Gold's embrace burned in her mind. "No," she whispered, coughing as she spat into the toilet. "No, it's not true..."

Tap. Tap.

Mr Gold appeared behind her in the doorway. His weight rested on his cane, as usual, and though he wasn't fully dressed he looked like a gentleman instead of a monster. A worried frown passed his face as Emma's nausea could be explained by the sickness caused by the idea of what had happened or by the same reason she had been throwing up eleven years ago. He gave her a worried glance.

"You weren't as disgusted last time." He noted, resting his shoulder against the doorframe. He studied her form as she sat hunched over the toilet with her blonde hair clinging to her face. She looked lovely despite her state, and he wanted to take her in his arms and caress her till she felt fine again. He knew he couldn't. He had gone too far, had taken far too much liberties already in this game.

Emma sniffled and hurriedly wiped the stress tears from her eyes. She hadn't realized Gold had followed her into the bathroom, but she decided she should've expected as much.

Slowly moving away from the toilet, Emma sat with her legs beneath her and gazed blankly down at her hands. It was all too much... much too much, for that matter. She liked to think of herself as a woman who could handle anything, but at the moment she wanted to pinch herself and awaken in some sort of alternate reality.

"In fact, you liked our time spent together." He was silent for a moment.

With a scoff at his words, Emma bitterly returned, "Perhaps I did, but you're forgetting I was drugged. Who's to even say I would have slept with you otherwise?" As soon as the words left her lips, she shuddered. The thought of willingly being mauled by Mr. Gold left her longing to crawl back to the toilet, but she resisted the temptation.

"I never knew that one day I would end up wishing to be the good guy instead of the bad." Mr Gold let out a short sniffing laugh. His words were ironic and tasted like iron. "I'd never imagined I would end up craving family life again. To have you and our son together in my home. To provide for you. To cherish you and to protect you."

His right hand gently slid past his chest and back to his cane. He looked down at his hands.

Rubbing at her cheek, Emma finally turned to regard Gold with blood-shot eyes. The words he was uttering seemed surreal and impossible - perhaps she was the victim of a cruel joke?

When he spoke of wanting to cherish and protect her, Emma gave a derisive snort and hugged herself for support. "You're so full of shit, it's not even funny... You say you did this to help me remember, but why couldn't you just tell me instead of...of..." Unable to finish, she bit her lip and closed her eyes.

She'd often dreamed of finding a father for Henry, but now the cruel irony was like a gruff slap to the face. His next words, however, were far more sobering.

"I'm afraid you could be pregnant, Emma. They are the same signals the hotel manager told me about when I had left. I had someone watch you, trace your every step, shadow you to see how you were doing and where you went. And when I heard you were pregnant I was as happy as could be. It all fitted the plan so much. Your child would be handed to Regina, she would educate it, I would watch it to make sure it was fine. And one day,… one day the child would come looking for you. And it happened so." He ran a hand through his hair.

"I am not pregnant," she sternly assured him. "When something upsets me enough, I puke, ok? And if I were pregnant? I'd abort the little monster."

Glaring up at him to show her defiance, Emma inwardly regretted her words since she knew she could never do such a thing...even if it was Gold's spawn. A baby was a baby, and she knew she didn't love Henry any less now that she'd been told the truth.

"Do I regret? No, but I regret having hurt you last night. It was the only way I could think of to make you remember. To use the drug you were given eleven years ago, to have you under my touch…" He bit his lip as he eyed her innocently. "I hope my intentions are clear to you now. You must be aware of my motivations. The boy means as much to me as he does to you. No doubt I don't need to tell you how far I'd be willing to go to get him back, fully. Now you can choose. Either we do this together, the proper way. Or we work against one another."

He gave her a sidelong glance, hands on his cane. "What will you choose?"

Finally drawing the strength to rise to her feet, Emma re-adjusted her dress and flinched at Gold's announcement. "I...what would constitute the "proper" way, and "together"? Because if you're expecting me to let us ever be alone again, you're even more full of shit than I thought. You broke my trust - again - and I don't think I can ever forgive that. I can't believe you made me think I might actually like you..."


	15. Regrets

**Desperate Souls**

_Chapter 4:_ _Ruined_

**Regrets**

Now it was Mr Gold's turn to be at a loss of words. He had not caught a single glimpse of anything affectionate towards his person from her. If all, the only thing she had done so far was accuse and scold him. Not one moment had he thought she truly would take a likening to him.

He stood there with his lips parted, jaw slackened, and a startled look in his eyes. Had he just spoiled it like he had feared? He quickly closed his mouth and made soft humming sounds as he sought words to save them from this situation.

When he opened his lips to speak he decided nothing he would say would impress her or make her chance her mind. And her words about aborting their baby had particularly struck his heart. He could feel the organ pounding painfully in his chest. Had this been what she was thinking ten years ago, when she had found herself with child? She had given Henry away. Perhaps she had not wanted him then as she had not wanted to carry his little soul for nine months. What did he know of her apart from what he had seen? Nothing. He knew her parents, he knew of her youth spent alone and rebellious, he knew of how she went looking for her son and how she was doing her best to get him back for almost a year now. Mr Gold seriously contemplated that the vision of a repenting mother who wanted her family back in her life might have been an instant of the thought being father to the wish. It might have all been in his imagination.

His shoulders slumped in defeat – though he never truly was defeated, but for now this seemed like the best way to act- and limped back into the bedroom to toss the covers in a more decent position on the bed. He bit back a sigh as he started searching for his clothes.

"You can take your leave if you want to, Miss Swan." Back on distant terms again. "I will not stop you." That last sentence was also meant to show he would not stop her if she was going to bring this story all across town in an attempt to wreck his reputation. The people already thought the worst of him, another bad deed would only increase the scare he caused. Then again, it wouldn't be smart for the new heroic sheriff to tell people how she'd been overpowered by the most fearsome man of the entire town. People might lose faith in her.

Mr Gold set about dressing up. All the while her words ricocheted inside his head. Had he raped others before? No, he hadn't. Emma had been the only woman he had slept with in this kind of way. An ironic thought passed him that in a way he'd been saving it all up for the sheriff these past few years. Perhaps it had been his lack of women that had made him giddy to pull such a prank on her. Though prank was too light a word. He was a true criminal now in every sense of the word for Emma had paid dearly, while all he had wanted from her was her consent. Her love was already too much to ask for.

As he straightened his tie, seated on the right side of the bed, he glanced up at her.

Although Emma had seen the various emotions dancing across Gold's face, she couldn't find pride in the fact she'd caused him to fall at a loss of words. She was far too numb and upset to care, and the emotionless expression on her face proved it.

Before the situation could grow awkward between them (what a joke), Gold had turned and left Emma to her own devices in the bathroom. As she stood there, her gaze drifted toward the razor and tooth brush on his sink, and the thought of slitting her wrists momentarily came to mind. It was a beautiful thought for all of twelve seconds - the remainder of the minute she stared was spent in horror over contemplating such a thought. She knew she'd never willing leave Henry behind (especially now that she knew Gold was gunning for him), but the idea of giving up somehow seemed...comforting.

Breaking her gaze away from the razor, Emma squared her jaw and sucked in a breath before re-entering Gold's room. He was sitting on his bed now, and the sight made her sick. It was the picture perfect sight of a traditional one-night stand, although this was by _far_ the most awkward of them all. She didn't feel any yearning for her lover, for one, and two, she actually felt slightly afraid of him.

Walking across the room in a wide-breached arc that forced them to keep their distance, Emma grabbed her coat off the back of the chair and sighed. Where did they go from there? Her pride was hurt, her confidence was hurt, and her heart was hurt. She was furious with herself to opening herself up to such a _monster_, and especially after she'd bragged to Mary Margaret about being an excellent judge of character. When Gold had invited her over, she genuinely thought he'd wanted to be on friendly terms... She just didn't grasp how friendly.

Eyes narrowing at this thought, Emma slipped her arms into her coat and turned back to face the man behind her. "Does Regina know about us?" she finally asked. The thought made her sick, especially if she could somehow use it against her in the future. With a pause, she amended, "I mean, about the whole conception... If she does, that could naturally make her suspicious if she sees us "planning" things together."

Her gaze was hard and lacked all warmth, thus dashing any possible hope of Emma having granted Gold forgiveness.

The man calmly turned to face her. "No. She does not. No one does. Not even Henry." He studied her face for her expression. "I thought it'd be better that way."

He moved on the bed, turning his torso so he was facing her more. "I wanted the boy to have dreams. I wanted the boy to have hope. I still do. I never meant to have his father be the monster everyone takes me for now." He nodded slowly and turned back, then pushed himself tiredly from the bed. His body ached, his limbs were heavy like stone and he wondered what had caused it. Surely not the extortion of last night's activities? He spun round swiftly and smiled weakly at her.

Emma visibly relaxed, but her expression was still stern. The possibility of Henry knowing about them had honestly never crossed her mind, for she had a feeling he would've said something already. Gold was the one person he couldn't quite pin down in "Fairytale Land," and that honestly struck her as odd.

"Henry has hope, but not the kind you intended," Emma muttered, vaguely alluding to his dreams for her to be the town's savior. "If you wanted him to have a good life, you should've tried to convince me to keep him... I can tell he's unhappy. He's depressed, for that matter, and I feel helpless because there's nothing I can do for him... Especially not now. Regina's forbidden me to come near him, so hopefully none of your so-called plans involve one-on-one confrontation." With a slight glare, she coolly demanded, "You do actually have a plan, don't you? Or was that all a lie, too?"

"Emma," he almost moaned, "I've never lied to you. Granted, I kept things a secret or simply didn't say. I wanted to see how much you could figure out by yourself. You're a clever girl." he quickly corrected himself here. "Woman. But you need some time to put the pieces of the puzzle together. Some things are just too painful to be told." He winced and looked away as he gestured while he spoke. "And some things should rather be shown. I will promise I will not lure you in again. I will not try to drug or 'poison' you another time."

"I promised Mary Margaret I would walk you home today. But I can fully understand if you would object. Then again, what might the people say seeing you somewhat disheveled passing their street?"

Withdrawing slightly at Gold's remark, Emma scowled and irritably folded her arms. She knew he was right, but she chose not to say so. He limped to her from his side of the bed and just as it looked he was going to reach out for her he passed her by to pick up her bag from the nightstand and held it out for her. He didn't look at her as his eyes were on the floor, in shame.

Cringing when she thought he was reaching for her, she relaxed only slightly when he held out her bag for her to take.

"You will not truly abort the child if it were there, would you?" he whispered.

Receiving the bag without returning his gaze, Emma heard Gold's question and visibly stiffened. She'd once been told by a foster mother that she, herself should've been aborted, so the subject was naturally a sensitive one. She'd hated herself for even making the snide comment about the non-existent baby, but she was more surprised to find Gold seemed as bothered by it as she'd been.

Wringing the bag between her hands, Emma felt a lump in her throat and shook her head. "No," she choked out, "I...I don't think I could... If I tried, I know I'd only picture Henry, and then I wouldn't be able to go through with it."

Mr Gold looked at her in all due honestly, his face not ever having been so sad and yearning. "Good. Because I don't think any child you'd carry could be a monster. And I don't think you think Henry is one. You've seen the boy." He smiled almost at this part, not hopeful, but painfully reminiscing that in which he put his pride and which had become the stimulus for his life.

Emma appeared taken aback. "Why would I ever think that about Henry? He's everything I could possibly want in a son...even if he has some of your...um...DNA inside him, I'm not stupid enough to discredit the fact he'll be a great man some day."

Considering the situation, Emma knew it was nothing less than a miracle that Henry was so bright and sweet. With Gold as his father, and Regina as his surrogate caregiver, he clearly had the worst possible odds stacked against him being a favorable child.

He shook his head and once again his face was hidden for her behind a curtain of hair as he looked out of the window. "But you are right. I am a selfish man."

Not realizing that she was smiling fondly, Emma came back to reality when Gold began to speak again. Trying to make sense of his reasoning was difficult, especially since she didn't see how being shown they'd had sex was a particularly swift move on Gold's part.

"It never occurred to you that I may never trust you again?" she asked, her gaze hard as flint. "And you're right, you will never do that again, because I won't let you. If you do anything I deem inappropriate, I'll throw you in jail for rape and sexual harassment."

Emma naturally wasn't sure if this was a hollow threat, for it seemed Gold was ridiculously skilled at avoiding repercussions from the law. Perhaps that also had something to do with his attack on her?

When he looked at her again he smiled.

"Emma," He tusked her, "So fierce. I like that about you. All right, I will be a kind man if you will stop your insults towards me. And as I recall you promised to be a bit kinder to me. I do hope last night's meeting didn't make that promise void. Cos I assure you I'm a man of my word. " He placed a hand on his chest.

Feeling sick at his promise, Emma managed to give a soft, "But wasn't I nice to you yesterday evening? Didn't I do everything you asked? Gold, I don't recall insulting you once during our dinner, but you still felt the need to violate me! How am I supposed to feel about your "word" when it clearly means nothing?"

Perhaps Emma was speaking out of the hurt and betrayal she felt, but somehow she was positive that Gold was being dishonorable. His next joke would've made her laugh in normal circumstances, but all she could do was sullenly stare back at him as he smiled. Maybe she would've joked back, had the circumstances been different...

"A man wearing sock-garters, but a man nonetheless."

He limped to the door and opened it. "Want some breakfast, or will you want to go instantly?" he glanced at her from behind the opened door. "You've little food to go on." Which was a shame because his cooking the other day had been delicious.

Somehow Emma hadn't realized that Gold had gone to the door until he spoke, and his words caused her to jump in surprise. Now regarding him in disdain, she muttered, "Maybe I should make my own breakfast, if that isn't too much to ask? Or at the very least observe you to make sure I won't be having roofie-laced pancakes."

Her words were bitter and stained with rancor, but she genuinely wanted to believe he had Henry's best interests in mind. But then...how could she ever trust him again? Unless he managed to brainwash her like he had 10 years ago, she knew the likelihood of them reconciling was next to none.


	16. Breakfast

**Desperate Souls**

_Chapter 4:_ _Ruined_

**Breakfast**

Mr Gold smiled as he limped down the stairs, expecting her to follow when she saw fit. And by the sound of her footsteps she was eager to leave the dreaded place called bedroom. As he descended he spoke to her. "I just said I won't poison you. Besides, even if it doesn't want to go through that thick skull of yours, I am very fond of you too. I think hurting you more than I already did is impossible to happen."

Emma couldn't prevent the sneer that curled her lip at his words. To her, saying one thing wasn't the same as doing, so she was naturally quite reluctant to accept any of his promises.

She was now a good foot behind him - always far enough so that she could turn and bolt, if she so desired - but his words still reached her quite effectively. Emma just so happened to halt in her tracks at the same time Gold did, so she wasn't able to remove the deer in the headlights look before he turned to look at her.

"Despite what you may think of me I have a heart for you." He said, brown eyes piercing hers.

Gripping tightly at the balustrade, she found it very hard to believe that he could have any sort of affection for her... Although it was very true, he couldn't hurt her any more than he had. Unless, of course, he decided to steal Henry right from under her very nose. If that were to happen, there would be bloodshed, no questions asked. She was finally beginning to understand what it was truly like to be a mother, and with it came the feral motherly instinct to protect her child.

He continued his way down the stairs and led her through the hallway back to the kitchen. The dining table was clean and there were no traces whatsoever of a fight, a drugging, an indecent event. Nothing. The table cloth was clean, the floor polished, the plates in the dishwasher which was showing a red flickering light to signal it was done, and occasionally gave an unpleasant beep.

Following him into the kitchen, Emma instinctively cringed at the sight of the dining room, but was shocked to discover it was completely spotless. She wanted to ask how he'd managed to get everything so clean on his own, but decided better against it. The less they discussed their prior entanglement, the better.

Mr Gold hobbled to the counter and started pulling open the cupboards. Gold was now digging in a cupboard, and she hurriedly rushed after him since she was afraid he might've had the chance to drug her food. Perhaps her fear was irrational - doing the same thing twice was foolish and unlikely - but she still didn't want to take any chances.

"I don't know how you managed," Mr Gold said, "but after I turned away from my past I was convinced I could never love again." He grimaced sourly. The word 'love' seemed misplaced, mostly because he disliked the term. He'd seen himself as cruel for so many years he had started to believe it himself. A heartless monster. Rich, wealthy, a man with taste and influence. Cold. He thought he had lost all senses to feel, but Henry had reminded him of his emotions: pride, joy, fatherly instinct. And somehow no matter how vile Emma had acted towards him he still wanted to own her body and soul. And if that would be impossible he wanted her to have Henry and he would cease life without a doubt.

After all, that had been his plan for a long time now that Emma had arrived. He would help her back to their son and he would die, taking away with him the shame of his past deeds and by his death setting right so many things he had set wrong. But Emma's arrival also had sparked that bit of hope that his ancient wish for a family could become reality. And now it seemed that this selfish and unrealistic wish was taking the overhand and that he actually preferred it over redemption and a heroic death. Suddenly the fate of the town had become less important and the possibility of a family had grown on him. He took a knife and butter and started to sweep the butter across the bread.

Hearing Gold's remark, Emma quirked a brow and shrugged. "Love? What the heck are you talking about? Whoever said anything about love? I can honestly say I've never been in love before...in lust? Yes, most definitely. But love? No way." With a shrug, she added, "Living without a lover honestly isn't as bad as it sounds...I've done it my whole life. I suppose it feels similar to what I feel for Henry, but only a different kind of love."

Immediately irritated that she'd opened up to her rapist, Emma clamped her lips firmly shut and sulked as Gold began to butter a piece of bread.

"But there's something about you I can't deny. You've a hold over me, Emma, a power you should not underestimate. You're the only.." he said, thinking that Henry would in a way have some power over him too. If the boy needed as much as protection Mr Gold would jump up for him. But it was different. It felt as if Emma was the one who could squeeze his heart.

Listening to him speak of her as though she were some powerful, ethereal being, she was tempted to scoff, but knew better than to do so. Gold had a knife, and she often tried to be respectful of those with a potential weapon.

"What would you like?" He asked Emma absent-mindedly, informing her about breakfast.

Having a seat at the kitchen table, she crossed her legs and shrugged. "I'll have anything without arsenic, thanks."

He smiled amused by her words and made her a slice of bread with jam and one with cheese, then handed the plate to her and limped to prepare her some fresh orange juice. He was well aware of her watching eyes as he made her meal, and wasn't at all bothered by it. After all he had meant what he had said. No 'arsenic' would be added.

"You keep strong despite what happens to you. I find that a remarkable capacity, Emma." He handed her the glass and made some for himself.

Emma shrugged at his words. "What's so remarkable about it? I have a naturally thick shell because of all that shit I've had to endure, so it's not like there's anything special behind my perseverance." With a sigh, she softly added, "And before you say you envy me, just know that you shouldn't. Mary Margaret was right about me...I'm a fake."

Annoyed with herself for once again speaking her mind a little too freely, Emma rubbed at the bridge of her nose and groaned. Her heart throbbing hollowly, she accepted the glass Gold handed her and took an absent sip.

"Love for a child is different than that felt for a lover." He smiled wryly. "I find it hard to explain. But the difference is there. It's like Henry is a part of me that needs protection. He needs to get the chances I never had, the love-" He eyed her and swallowed. "Everything I would wish for I'd want for him. Nothing bad, never something bad. You may doubt me all you want but it will not change my feelings for him or for you." He sipped from his own glass.

Emma stared in front of her. The thought of him loving her and her son was too much to stomach at the moment. Thankfully, however, she no longer felt the desire to purge her stress into the toilet.

"Living without a lover will make you lonely and defensive. It will make you sour and shield out all forms of love offered to you. It makes you ruthless and violent." He was talking more about himself now than about her, falling back on his own past experiences. The difference between them might be the fact he had a family before and lost it, he had known love. He glanced at Emma and suddenly realized she might not ever have known true love. Something in his eyes changed at this realization. Something made them soften and the whole tenseness of his muscles disappeared too. His voice had become almost like a whisper, low and silky.

Picking sulkily at her food, Emma mistook Gold's ramblings to be directed at herself, and inwardly felt a pang since she knew he was right. She was lonely and defensive, and she was sour and ruthless... Mary Margaret once commented on the "wall" she had that kept people out, and at the time Emma hadn't wanted to accept such a ridiculous idea. But now, she was somehow more willing to understand what her friend had been trying to say, and her gaze grew despondent as she suddenly stopped eating.

Her life was a complete fucking mess.

"You will know how it feels. Something about you tells me you already do. Even if you did not get the chance to love me in the past you've always loved the father you imagined Henry to have." His eyes widened and pupils dilated. He'd been defeated by a mental image.

Head jerking up upon Gold's declaration, Emma felt her chest tighten as she narrowed her eyes. "How do you know how I felt about the idea of Henry's father?" she shot back. "How do you know I loved him?"

In a sense, however, she knew there was some truth to his accusation. The moment she'd been reunited with Henry, the idea of a father had seemed pleasant and charming. She could envision them laughing and playing in the park together, but all of that had been shattered upon her newfound realization. Now it just seemed completely ridiculous.

Afraid to ruin her appetite Mr Gold quickly stumbled past her and gestured for her to take a seat.

"I'm sorry. I should not keep ruining your appetite so. You need to eat, be healthy. I keep depriving you of all pleasures in life while I just said not to do so anymore. I will keep my wisdom locked away until you ask."

With a snort, Emma shrugged and returned, "No, why bother? You've already made me throw up twice, so it's not like you can garner a worse bodily reaction than that..." A wry smile quirked her lips at the thought, and somehow the action was painful. Her bottom lip felt sore to the touch, and a distinct chill ran down her spine. What if he'd ravaged her mouth after she'd fallen into the state of unconsciousness? He very well could've bitten and sucked at her lips to the point of pain...

Shaking the thought from her mind (if she was going to work with Gold, she'd have to forget as much as possible), Emma took a deep breath and urged, "No...sit. I need you to tell me everything you can remember about Henry. I wasn't there for him for ten years of his life, and I regret that now - I need to know everything I've missed." With shining earnest eyes, she begged, " Please ...if nothing else, do this one thing for me."

He sat down hesitatingly and placed his plate in front of him. His appetite had left so instead of eating the last remainders of his bread he started sipping from his orange juice. It was odd to start the morning like this, instead of a cup of coffee and a newspaper. Not that he'd eat last said thing, but he had a tendency to skip breakfast and eat a dry rusk down at the shop.

Mr Gold's behavior seemed to have changed, to have become more timid and his eyes and demeanor were more shy now and ashamed. "Henry was an adorable little baby. He learnt about as quick as most children do. One thing though, he would cry often in the mornings. Regina called me a few times because somehow he didn't want to stop unless I was there to cradle him. He was very energetic as a toddler and loved stories. I heard Regina had Sydney over to tell him bedtime stories whenever she could not, whenever she was too busy with work. And of course Graham, but Henry didn't like his tales so he was dismissed." He smirked, remembering and feeling warm at the many memories of his son, though most had been from a distance.

Emma began to absently rotate her glass in her hands, her eyes on anything but Gold as she listened to him speak. To hear Henry was a fussy baby made her smile, because she'd often been told she was a handful at that age, as well. And to discover he loved stories was no genuine surprise either, but it amused her to think that poor Graham hadn't been sufficient in the story-telling department.

Graham...

Emma's heart clenched. She'd admittedly once entertained the idea that he could be Henry's father, but fate had cruelly snatched him away before any such thing could blossom. She knew she wasn't in love with him - they'd barely gotten the chance to have a relationship - but she had certainly been fond of him.

"I can still see him play among the sand, building castles and making warriors out of wooden twigs to defend the castle. He has great fantasy, always have had." His eyes had turned dreamy and his meal had been forgotten. The glass of juice was left thoughtless in his hand.

"The little things…" He murmured, "the way he would walk by on his way to school, the way he would wear blue jeans - always the same pair because he liked them so -, the way he would run up the stairs to brush his teeth-" He broke off with a need to explain. "I would sometimes visit Regina just before Henry's bedtime and the boy was so proud that he could brush his own teeth, whenever she told him to he would rush off happily. I think he thought Regina's method was too harsh, that he liked it more when he did it himself. You've seen him, you've seen his teeth. He's done a very good job." Mr Gold actually sounded as proud as his son.

Snapping back to reality, a warm smile gradually drifted across her lips as Gold spoke of Henry's little idiosyncrasies. It almost seemed ... bizarre that he had such an excellent account of the boy, and with such great detail. Even though she loved her son with all her heart, she honestly wasn't sure if she could've recalled everything - including her son's favorite jeans - so vividly.

The toothbrush story actually elicited somewhat of a laugh from her, and somehow the musical sound seemed foreign to her ears. When was the last time she'd actually laughed? And really laughed, at that?

"He always claimed dolls were for girls but even till today he has a soft puppet he likes to sleep with." Mr Gold closed his eyes. "Mr Man," He let out a breath, "Regina suggested the name as a replacement for the father he never had. 'Call him father', she had told him. But Henry had defied her and had simply called him 'man'." He smiled at Emma, his voice sounded thick. "I think it was a blow to my face to hear I was being replaced by a dummy. Then again the doll will do a much better job for the boy. At least he's always there to comfort him."

Absently rubbing at the tabletop with her thumb, Emma paused at the "Mr. Man" story and cringed. "I never realized how lonely he was...that almost seemed cruel of Regina to try and replace his father figure with a sock puppet. Children need their families, and...ugh, who am I kidding? I'm the biggest hypocrite on the face of the planet."

Mr Gold looked away, palms flat on the table now, and took a deep breath. His lips were parted, searching for something to say because he realized he was drifting off to his own feelings and experiences instead of keeping to what she would want to hear.

"The boy is a good boy, Emma," he peered at her as if measuring her reaction. "He has his heart in the right place. He only punched another boy once before, never has he caused trouble. He didn't engage in soccer with the other kids, he wanted to sit in a corner and read instead. He's been lonely, searching for you. Not because Regina can't care for him, but because he misses these parts of him in which he can recognize himself. Regina is alien to him. She has odd quirks and traits he doesn't recognize in himself.

Brushing back a lock of hair, she sighed and shook her head. The remark about Henry punching another boy oddly brought another smile to her lips, but only because she figured that was her coming out of the child. As a young girl, she wasn't your average "sugar and spice" doll that mothers doted on. When provoked, she'd attack...and quite fiercely.

Although Gold's explanation on why Henry sought her out made sense, a sudden thought began nagging at Emma's mind until she had to address it. "Gold," she hesitantly began, "I, uh...don't mean to sound like a class-less tramp or anything, but how do you know Henry's yours? I'm 99% positive I slept with several men after you that week, so...what makes you so certain?"

* * *

><p>Au: a thank you to the readers :)<p>

Twyla Mercedes: I apologize for the way Emma reacts to it all. I (the uploader) am only the Rumple part in this and must admit I didn't really do a proper job editing it all. I was too afraid of deleting or changing the texts, and thus edited as little as possible, making the story hard to follow (I think). It is still a role play and therefore tricky to shape into a readable fanfic. I know it can be done, perhaps Emma will one day ;D?

ParanormalMoonlight: Whoot! Thank you :) I hope this chapter didn't let you down ;D


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